Who is John Connor?
by jbh61987
Summary: The road to becoming General Connor is a harsh one as fifteen year old John tries to learn what it takes to be the man he is destined to become. AU Retelling of the first season.
1. Living in the Land of OZ

(Disclaimer: All Chapters of this story are the product of my own creation using the characters from the T.V. show Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. I am making no money off it and write solely for my own entertainment)

Special thanks to Fortex for betaing the chapter as well as helping me with concepts and ideas for the story.

**Chapter 1: Living in the Land of OZ**

-BAM-

Fifteen year old John Connor's eyes opened the instant he heard the screen door slam shut. As he lay in bed completely motionless he strained his hearing in hopes of making out what had caused the noise. Slowly his hand inched to the space between the mattress of his bed and the wall. While his right hand moved up he edged closer to the side of the bed farthest from the door of his room. The sound of a car starting and pulling out of the driveway gave him a better guess as to why the door had shut so loudly. The most logical reason would be that Charlie Dixon, his mother's fiancé and one of the few steady male role-models in his life was running late for work.

However, that was just an assumption and in the real world there was a phrase commonly used when assuming 'When you assume, you make an _ass_ out of _u_ and _me_'. But in the world of John Connor the penalty for assuming was far worse than making a fool of yourself and those around you. In his world the penalty for assuming could result in either your death, the death of those around you, or both. Footsteps could be heard coming down the hall towards his room. As the door opened, John let his body relax so he could move at a moments notice. Whoever had opened the door had yet to say or do anything. A few moments passed before the familiar voice of his mother filled the room. "That won't be necessary, John. It's just me."

His body tensed when she spoke before relaxing; turning his head he looked at his mother, scrutinizing her before he pulled his hand out from the junction between the mattress and the wall. Sitting up he rubbed the dirt from his eyes before letting out a long yawn. Glancing at his alarm clock, he took note that it was set to go off in three minutes. Reaching over and shutting it off he glanced back at his mother, "You beat the alarm clock…what's the occasion?"

Sarah bit her lower lip before walking into the room and answering her son, "We have to go, John. We can't stay here."

"What!?" he questioned, his voice taking a hard edge.

"You heard me. We can't stay here, it's not safe."

"Not safe? From whom?"

Taking a deep breath she replied, "Not from, for. We can't let Charley get caught up in this, in us, and we can't let ourselves get lulled into a false sense of security."

"So that's it?" he questioned, anger creeping into his voice and eyes. "Just pack up and leave? Never minding the pain we leave behind us? This isn't fair, Mom. Not to us and definitely not to Charlie."

Sarah gave her son a pained look, but held firm. "Yes, he'll be hurt, but he'll live. He'll be safe."

"I thought no one was ever safe?" he countered using her own philosophy against her.

Hearing the familiar words that had served as the driving force for her actions, she flinched. "You're right, but if he continues to be a part of our lives he'll be put in unnecessary danger."

"And what about me? Just what kind of life do you want for me exactly? All my life you've told me that I needed to be ready, to be prepared to lead humanity, fight SKYNET. To become a soldier of the future, for the future and yet in these past two years you've done a complete one-eighty and have been pressuring me to act normal, to be a kid!" He growled out. Taking a few deep breaths he asked her in a dark tone, "Which is it?"

Hiding the pain and torment she felt at her son's words Sarah ignored his question and said. "Half an hour…one bag. Plus the guns. I'll make pancakes." Before walking out.

John sat at the edge of his bed, mind running rampant. There was a proverb that read 'If something's too good to be true, it probably is.' And deep inside he understood the peaceful life he had come to know was most likely nothing but a fantasy. But there was a small part of him that held onto the hope that it was real. To have the life he saw everyone else have. That he envied everyone else for having.

'_Serves you right, John_.' He thought. '_When has life ever given you what you want? Better yet, when has life allowed you a chance at normalcy?'_

Standing up he walked to the far wall where his closet was located and pulled out a duffle bag. Going to his dresser he pulled out and removed the bottom drawer. Moving a few of the shirts away revealed a book bag. Grabbing one of the straps of the bag he tossed it over to his bed. Inside the bag was a first aid kit, a change of clothes, and some rations mainly consisting of canned food, beef jerky, and water; food that wouldn't go bad quickly. Despite the argument with his mother, experience had made certain that John always had a bag ready should the need arise. Four years ago, he had his first encounter with the machines from the future that his mother always warned him of. Back then he had felt scared, helpless, and most of all a burden to those trying to protect him.

When his mother was arrested and placed in a mental ward for the criminally insane he had been resentful of her. Everyone around him called her crazy and that everything he learned from her was all for naught. His resentment towards her grew and made him want to get some level of payback for the injustices he felt she committed. His plan? Sever all ties to his past. He stopped researching weapons and battle strategies and he no longer tried to stay in shape or out of the spotlight. However, he considered those acts to be minor compared to the one he invested most of his time into…computers. His mother absolutely hated them. To her they represented the bastard child of mankind that would one day wipe out all life on the planet. What better way for him to get his revenge than to abuse the skills she taught him to access, use, and upgrade the one thing she hated most.

But, he had been wrong. His mother wasn't crazy, his training wasn't for nothing, and most importantly the childhood he was forced to sacrifice hadn't been in vain. During that turbulent time in his life John was forced to acknowledge his destiny. Judgment day was real, the machines were real, and the future his mother told him of was real. The guilt he felt upon realizing this weighed heavily upon him. His mother hadn't betrayed him, he had betrayed her. He took everything she ever gave him and spit it back in her face. Wanting to make amends for his mistakes he vowed to take his training more seriously. To show her that he wouldn't be a burden, that he would live up to her expectations.

But he wasn't the only one who felt guilty, Sarah Connor felt it too. She felt that she had failed her son not only as a teacher, but as a mother. Like all parents, she wanted the best life possible for he son and after much deliberation she chose to give him the future he deserved, not the one fate had chosen for him. The result of that decision had led to the destruction of the Cyberdyne Research Center and the death of Miles Dyson, SKYNET's creator. For all intents and purposes Judgment day had been averted.

But things were never that easy and John had learned to become skeptical. If there was anything he learned from all that had happened back then it was to never take things for granted and to always be ready. In one day his life had undergone a drastic change and he knew there would always be a possibility of it happening again.

In the end, his mother was right. They couldn't afford to be lulled into a false sense of security. Time didn't matter when it came to Judgment day or SKYNET. The eleven year gap between when his mother was targeted for termination and when his own life was targeted was proof of that. With those facts in mind, John reviewed everything he had ever learned growing up and even took the time to ask his mother to teach him the many tricks and skills she had come to learn. In the past four years, he had quickly assimilated a majority of his mother's teachings while also developing some of his own.

Getting on his hands and knees he reached deep into the dresser's cavity. Off in the back hidden from sight he pulled out two boxes of .44 magnum rounds, a black carrying case, and a gun cleaning kit. Opening the duffle bag he tossed the bullets and maintenance kit inside. Standing up and grabbing the black case he headed over to his bed and reached between the gap separating the wall from the mattress and pulled out a Colt Anaconda with the words "Justice for All" engraved into the barrel; the inscription having been apart of the gun when they first bought it. The gun was large by standard handgun definition and the rounds it fired were mostly suitable for game around the size of a brown bear or in John's case robots from the future intent on killing him.

The gun was one of his few prized possessions and as much as he loved it, his mother hated it. To her giving John a gun was the equivalent of telling him to fight on the front lines. Fighting was not what he was trained to do, he was trained to run. She had been adamant about not giving him a weapon, but he argued that he wouldn't get far if he didn't have some means of protection. It was that particular bit of logic that forced her into agreeing, but she made certain to set rules. The primary of which was the gun being a six shooter. Her belief was if he only had six rounds he would be less likely to try and fire them all at once and if he did he would be forced to run as the time spent reloading was longer than with a clip using handgun. John had reluctantly agreed to the rules she set, but only if he could choose the gun. At thirteen, Sarah didn't believe he would have a large knowledge of the many types of handguns available.

She was only partially right. He didn't know much about the different makes or models, but that didn't mean he couldn't learn. Exploiting that loophole, he got to work researching the various models. When he first encountered the Colt Anaconda he appreciated the power it could pack, but didn't feel it would be a suitable choice. Its large size, heavy weight, and powerful recoil made it impractical for his small frame. On top of that it was building up a reputation for having rather poor accuracy. He almost wrote it off, but a passing comment from his mother had given him pause.

They had been on the run when he needed to get some new clothes, having outgrown his old ones. While shopping Sarah spoke of how quickly he was growing and would soon be taller than her. She jokingly blamed it on his father, but her comment sparked something inside of him. While they shopped he began asking more about his father to get a better idea of how tall he would be and how well he'd fill out. Sarah misunderstood his questions and thought he was just interested in knowing more about his father. Not giving it another thought, she answered each and every question he threw at her.

With the knowledge in hand, John reviewed the information he had on the Colt Anaconda and realized based on what his mother had said that he would most likely be able to grow into the gun. But that wasn't all; new barrels were being created and modified to help the gun's poor accuracy. His original sources being outdated he was unaware such improvements existed. Constructing his argument he told his mother the gun he had decided on.

Of course her first reaction was no, but he had expected her response and countered it by listing off why it would be the perfect gun for him. Stating reasons such as his inability to fire it at his current age would encourage him to flee, it was a six shooter; falling under his mother's category, and if the machines ever returned it would be capable of packing a punch harder than any handgun they currently possessed. So with great reluctance she agreed, but after purchasing the gun she refused to give it to him, saying "There's no reason for you to carry something you can't use."

While disheartened, he did agree with her. If there was a time to use it, it would be better off in her hands and not his. While Sarah wouldn't let him carry or use it, she did let him fiddle around with it and taught him how to take it apart, clean it, and reassemble it; Lessons John took to like a fish to water and was completely shocked on his fifteenth birthday when she gave it to him as a present. Then again, that was most likely due to his disappointment upon receiving a flak jacket.

Taking a few seconds to admire his gun, he looked it over before setting it on the bed. Opening the black case he picked it up and gently placed it inside before tossing it into the duffle bag with the .44 caliber rounds. From the kitchen his mother called out, "Hurry and wrap it up. Your breakfast is getting cold."

Sighing he grabbed the duffle bag and his book bag and left his room without so much as a second glance. He had grown attached to the room and to the quiet life he and he knew that looking back would make leaving that much harder. Walking down the hallway past Charlie and his mother's room he apologized. '_I'm sorry, Charlie. But it seems the world can't live without John Connor.'_

XxXxXxXxXxX

"So she's not missing? I mean based on the way you explained it?" The officer sitting across from Charlie Dixon asked.

Charlie looked at the man in annoyance. He had already been at the police station for an hour explaining the situation. One hour, making it fourteen since he came home and found his fiancé's wedding ring and a note saying goodbye. One hour, making it ten since he pulled himself together and decided to do all he could to find her and her son. But worst of all, one hour since he attempted to get help but only getting the feeling that the police were jerking his chain. "Right, the way I explained it. She's not missing she left."

"It happens more than you think." The man replied.

"You don't know her." He replied as the door opened up behind him and another person entered the room.

"I could say the same to you, Mr. Dixon." A deep voice spoke as a black man in a nice suit carrying a folder in hand made his way around the table. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a badge and photo I.D. reading, Agent James Ellison FBI.

"FBI?" Charlie questioned as confusion started sinking in.

"Been together long?" Ellison inquired.

Leaning back to get more comfortable, he answered, "Bout six months. Been a bit of a whirlwind to be honest."

Ellison laughed at Charlie's response. As if he was seeing the punch line to a funny joke. Opening up the folder he carried and pulling out a few papers bound together with a paperclip he replied, "You have no idea about this whirlwind. Tell me, does the SKYNET missile defense system mean anything to you?"

Looking up at the ceiling in frustration, he gave a quiet sigh of defeat before answering. "No."

Not hesitating at Charlie's negative response, he asked his next question. "How bout this guy? Recognize him?"

Taking a minute to observe the newspaper clipping attached to the paperwork, Charlie took in the man's name and appearance. "…Miles Dyson. No, never seen him before."

"That's because he's dead," Ellison replied straight-faced. Reaching into the folder he pulled out another set of papers; medical records with a picture of Sarah Connor attached. "Your fiancé freshly escaped from the Pescadero Mental Hospital blew him apart four years ago; leveled a four-story research facility along with him. But, since there's no lethal injection for the destruction of public property let's just stick with the murder of one of our countries brightest computer scientists and dedicated family man."

Charlie ignored his closing statement. Being a paramedic, he knew some of the things law enforcement would say to try and get people to open up; using things like patriotic and familial expressions to create a sense of common ground in hopes of getting more information. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know how to respond. "No…it's just not..." Finally he asked, "Why would she do that?"

"You know, Mr. Dixon. It's the robots." Ellison said in a rather upbeat tone. "The ones from the future? The ones SKYNET sent back in time to kill her son. Which makes total sense, cause in the future not only is he her son, but…" Looking at the medical records he read off. "'The leader of the Resistance fighting artificially intelligent machines determined to annihilate the human race.'"

Charley gave him a doubtful look. Glancing up and locking eyes with the paramedic, he added. "Did he strike you that way? Leader of a scrapping band of rebels; Luke Skywalker type?"

Fixing the FBI agent with a glare, he said "He's just a kid! A great kid! He's like a son to me."

"Did you know your 'son' has his own criminal record?" Ellison asked, setting down yet another set of papers. "Hacking police records, federal records, breaking and entry…" He paused for a moment, giving a mocking look to the ceiling as if he was forgetting something. "Oh! And stealing about four thousand dollars from various ATMs. Pretty impressive for a fifteen year old boy, nonetheless they're still _very _serious offenses."

Slamming his hands on the table and standing up, Charlie's eyes were alight with anger. "He never did any such thing the whole time I've known him. Nor, did Sarah show _any_ signs of being mentally unstable!" Taking a few steps back he continued. "I came here for help and you just barge in with the audacity to say everything I knew about two people I care deeply for was a lie? You can't really be expecting me to believe all this!"

Storming over to the door he reached for the handle, but was stopped when Ellison dropped his mocking tone and returned to the professionalism he displayed upon first entering the room. "No, Mr. Dixon I don't. I don't care about your feelings toward them, nor do I care about how they did or didn't act like the bad guys I accused them of. To be frank I'm here because my boss, the United States has listed your fiancé as the number one most wanted female criminal in America and number three overall. You want the kicker? The people holding the slot for numbers one and two have some kind of connection to her. So let's skip the pleasantries and cut to the chase. We can start by you giving me her last name. I understand it isn't Connor."

Charlie had a pained look on his face before slowly moving back to the table and dropping into the seat. Letting out a sigh he answered Ellison's question. "It's Reese...Sarah and John Reese."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Three weeks…that was how long it had been since Sarah had taken her son and ran. Two weeks since they chose their destination, a small farming town called Red Valley, New Mexico, and one week since they found a house and registered John for school.

'_Just in time for the new school year!'_ John sarcastically thought. Looking around the room he resisted the urge to glare. Glaring was the sign of a challenge and challenges brought attention to the challenger. Something his mother would consider counter-productive to their cause.

He hated these kinds of towns. Everyone knew everyone else and _everybody_ was a cowboy no matter how much they thought they weren't. He listened as the teacher droned on about what to expect in class, what was expected of them, how the course was not something they could blow off, blah, blah, blah. John could tell by the guy's tone that he glorified himself. He was a science teacher! Teaching future generations the complex art of the ever growing, ever changing field.

_Sorry pal, no matter what you may think it doesn't change the fact that you're a high school teacher and all your efforts are wasted on your students. No one here will probably amount to anything and will most likely take over the family business._ He thought as he doodled in his notebook. It was either that or sleeping and sleeping brought unnecessary attention.

"What's your name?" A soft voice asked from over his shoulder.

Looking behind him to see if the voice was speaking to him or someone else, he locked eyes with a beautiful girl. She had long brown hair that stopped just below her shoulders and two sparkling brown eyes. Her face was unmarred save for a beauty mark along her left eyebrow that seemed to accentuate her looks. She was giving him an expectant look and he felt compelled to respond. "John."

"Cameron." She said with a smile.

"…And no talking when I'm talking." A voice from the front of the room spoke drawing their attention. The teacher stared hard at John for a second as if to say the disturbance was entirely his fault.

'_Forgive me your holiness; by all means, continue kissing your own ass.'_ John debated speaking his thoughts aloud, but resisted. The bell rang not too long after signaling the end of class. As was routine for him, John packed his things quickly and walked out of class keeping his head down, acting unassuming.

"John?" Cameron called out as she walked up beside him.

"…Hey." He replied in greeting.

"Haven't seen you around here before, you just move here?" She asked.

"Yeah."

She gave a sympathetic laugh before replying, "Sucks for you."

John threw a quick glance at her; feeling slightly uncomfortable. He had been the new kid in school an innumerable amount of times, repeated the same inconspicuous actions an innumerable amount of times, and had been utterly ignored by the rest of his peers an innumerable amount of times. Yet here was a girl, a very _attractive_ girl seemingly taking an interest in him. Not wanting to seem rude he gave her a small laugh as if to say he agreed with her.

"My dad sells tractors, what about yours?"

Reaching his locker he started to open it while recalling his cover-story, "Insurance."

"Really, what kind?"

'_It's insurance. Who cares what kind?' _he thought as his feelings of unease grew. Tilting his head quickly as if trying to recall the answer, he replied. "The boring kind."

Cameron laughed, "That's the kind of tractors my dad sells. What about your mom?"

Switching his books out, he reviewed their conversation quickly in his head. All of his experience with getting to know people, limited as it was taught him that people normally start with learning more about each others likes, dislikes, and hobbies before asking about family. Looking at her from his peripheral, he concluded that she had to have had less experience meeting new people than he did.

"My mom stays home." She supplied, when he failed to respond.

"You know I really got to get to the next class." He quickly said.

"So…I'll see you around?" She asked tentatively.

John felt his body relax. She seemed to realize she was making him uncomfortable, but even so she still exhibited some interest in getting to know him. "…Yeah."

"Well…okay then…bye." She said giving him one last smile before walking off. He took a moment to watch her retreating form with a slight bit of regret. He didn't want to blow her off, but her odd interest in him left him feeling anxious. Maybe it wasn't her that was the odd one, but him. After all, he couldn't really call himself the epitome of a normal teenage boy. Perhaps he was just being paranoid. The bell rang and John swore under his breath. He had spent so much time thinking about Cameron that he forgotten to finish gathering his things and head to the next class.

'_Great, this is already shaping up into a fantastic day.'_ He sarcastically thought as he finished gathering his things for the next class and rushed to the classroom.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was the start of third hour, English. He failed to understand why an English speaking country had a class in public education called English, when the course work was more along the lines of reading and writing. Wouldn't that mean it was a poor choice of wording to call the class English? _Another point for irony_. He thought as he opened his notebook. The best thing about writ-, no…English class is that you could write all day about nothing happening in the class and no one would be any wiser.

At the top of the page he wrote "Cameron Phillips" large enough to serve as a label, but small enough to easily conceal should the teacher walk past his desk. He had wanted to start this record keeping in his last class, but after arriving late he felt it best not to bring anymore undue attention. Moving down the page he started listing various categories every few lines using generic words such as, Personality, Actions, Suspicions, and Thoughts.

Starting with the first category he listed things he had learned through his observations and interactions. She had been very forward and inquisitive, but never too pushy, and extremely friendly. Moving down to Thoughts he listed his feelings on her character.

'_Considering physical appearance as well as her overall attitude, Cameron causes me unease, as a girl of her stature should rank high on the popularity scale and thus not have interest in any new student who doesn't draw attention to themselves. Maybe I'm developing dad's sex appeal? After all he got mom…'_

John stopped that train of thought immediately and did his best to wash his mind of the frightening places they would have taken him. Moving to Suspicions he wrote one short, simple line "Possible popular girl showing interest in weird new kid". Moving onto actions he started his next list. She was quick to walk beside him and while she wasn't too close, she had been close enough to suggest familiarity. He also listed how she forewent all questions relating to him personally and instead started with questions related to his parents. Moving back down to Thoughts he wrote.

_Her actions are a total contradiction. Her stance suggests she knows me, but the fact that we've known each other for less than an hour makes that impossible._

He moved his pen towards Suspicions, but stopped and glanced over the sheet of paper. What the hell was he doing? He hardly knew this girl and yet he was trying to psychologically pick her apart. He was viewing her as a possible threat for God's sake! A small part of his mind said she could be trying to get close to him, but he quickly ignored it. If he and his mother had a lot of human enemies that could be true, but he had been John Reese for over two years and had lived a relatively normal life.

The same cautious part of him then suggested the possibility of her being a machine from the future intent on killing him. Again that part of his brain was countered. His experience with the terminators taught him an important lesson, once they've confirmed his identity, visually confirmed it, all pretenses of acting human were dropped. The T-1000 had moved with a one-track mind intent on killing him and the T-800, Uncle Bob never attempted to act human to begin with. Cameron exhibited neither of these traits which reinforced his belief that she wasn't a machine from the future.

The bell rang signaling the end of third hour and John tore out the sheet he had written on before crumpling it up and tossing it into his book bag along with his other supplies. The only way to solve the mystery that was, Cameron Phillips would be to gather more information. His next class was a computer course that he had switched out upon his arrival at school. His mother would skin him alive if she ever learned about that particular skeleton in the closet. They had been forced to run more than once after he was caught hacking, but that had been years ago and John had become much more experienced with computers. He now understood the finer points of covering your tracks and could now dance in and out of firewalls whilst leading anyone tracking him on a wild goose chase or ten.

Not bothering to stop off at his locker, he rushed to the classroom. His moment of opportunity would be small and there was no doubt that the teacher would realize he was screwing around on the computer. They may not realize what he was doing, but they would probably deduce it had nothing to do with class. There was also the risk of another student seeing him. Entering the classroom he checked the seating chart and walked over to his computer as quick as he could without drawing attention.

Sitting down at the desk and placing his hands on the keyboard a small rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins; this was his element, his specialty, his niche in life. He never felt more at home than when he was behind a computer. It didn't matter if it was hacking systems for information, money, or to screw with the lives of people that pissed him off. He could do it all; programming, creating files and systems for his benefit or viruses to use against others. There was just no measurable limit to his abilities. It didn't matter how many times his mother yelled at him, how many times she lectured about how computers would lead to SKYNET and Judgment day, John would always see computers like most boys his age saw cars; dumbfounded at all the cool new features and the possibilities of what would/could come out next.

Tapping away faster than any of his peers and most of the instructors could, John tore through the school's firewall and accessed the student records in seconds. As he navigated through them he absentmindedly sent out bread trails and traps that would cause anyone trying to access the schools database to crash. Considering the setup he saw upon entering the classroom and viewing the office, he knew that the odds of anyone realizing the crashes were a form of sabotage were virtually nonexistent. In a small rural community such as Red Valley, hardly anyone would have any _real_ expertise on computers. The school's teacher would probably be the most knowledgeable and even his understanding wouldn't equal a fourth of John's. Typing in Cameron's name he pulled up her file and started checking it for new information regarding the girl that had been invading his thoughts.

'_Schedule…Date of birth…parents' names…'_He thought as he read through the file quickly growing impatient. '_Dammit where is the important crap like her address, date of registration, and three sizes!?'_

John quickly shook his head in an attempt to banish his hormonal thoughts. While he was certainly interested in that last bit of information, he knew it shouldn't be high on his priorities.

"You're just full of surprises." A familiar voice said from behind him. Three keys later the hacking stopped and the evidence was removed. Turning around he saw Cameron taking a seat behind him. John couldn't help but think how big a bitch karma was being lately. If karma were a woman, he would have no doubt about it being her time of the month and the worst part was his troubles started three weeks ago! She must have been making up for lost time.

"So, you any good with them?" She asked gesturing towards the machine in front of her.

'_How to say, 'If you were a computer, I could get you to orgasm in 2.3 sec-' _"I have a bit of experience with them." He replied, once again banishing his perverted thoughts.

"They kind of scare me to tell you the truth."

John said nothing as he gave her a curious look; the way she spoke made it sound less like an innocent statement, and more of an invitation for him to agree. As if she was saying "I know about the future and Judgment day". Not knowing what to say, he opted to remain quiet.

"You want to hang out sometime after school, maybe help me learn how to get these things to work?" She asked.

_Got to give her points for persistence._ He thought as the same uneasy sensations from before returned. Knowing she would be waiting for an answer he replied. "I really can't, my mom's going to want me to come straight home."

Her face became crestfallen and she spoke in a disappointed tone. "…Oh…okay then."

"No, no. I mean I would really like too it's just my mom is really strict." _Believe me you're a fucking enigma and its driving me nuts that I can't seem to figure you out._ He silently added.

"It's alright." She said trying to reassure him, but he could tell she was still feeling a bit upset. Letting the conversation drop she turned to face her computer. John started to beat himself up inside as he took in her dejected form.

'_And the biggest dick in the universe award goes to, John Connor.'_

For the rest of the class period, he ignored the world around him and focused on punishing himself. When class ended he had wanted to say something, anything to Cameron, but he couldn't find the words. Was this really the life he wanted? A lonely life dictated by a future that may or may not come true. To follow the orders of his mother and sacrifice his personal life over what could be a possibility? As he contemplated over these thoughts he came to a conclusion. No! He wouldn't let his life be run for him. While he trusted his mother's judgment what was the point of him saving humanity if he had to sacrifice his own in the process? He was a human being, not some tool with a sign reading "Do not use until Judgment Day".

Entering his fifth hour, John made his decision. He would enjoy his life to the fullest, he would get to know Cameron, and make his own choices; live by his own rules. It may cause some grief with his mother, but he wasn't a child anymore. Having made his choice, he vowed to find the girl that sparked his interest and drove him into making his own decisions. He would find her, hang out with her, and if luck was on his side, which it usually was, start a relationship with her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Whoever said it was easier to find things when you weren't looking for them should be shot. That was John's thought as he exited the school. Part of him wished he had the skill at finding Cameron that she seemed to have for finding him. Letting out a sigh he started to walk home when he spotted a familiar looking figure just entering the corner of his eyesight. Turning to get a better view he saw the subject of his thoughts walking to the student parking lot. Running to catch up to her he called out her name.

As she turned to find the source of the voice, John couldn't help but notice the look she had on. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought she was getting ready to kill someone. As they locked eyes her face broke out into the familiar smile she always seemed to have when dealing with him before walking up to him. Not wanting to seem rude he jogged up to meet her halfway.

"Hey, John," She greeted. "What's up?"

Scratching the back of his head he said, "I was just thinking…I was being a real ass earlier today. I mean you were just trying to make me feel welcomed and I just kept blowing you off."

Tilting her head, she replied. "I understand. You said your mother was a little strict right? It's okay."

John shook his head. "No, its not. That might serve as a reason to not be able to hang out, but it doesn't give me the right to treat you like I did. So, I was wondering…if it's still alright with you…maybe we could…hang out?"

Her face seemed to light up as she listened to him. She quickly nodded her head in agreement. "Sure, school just started so I doubt there is much you could help me with in keyboarding, but I'm sure we can find something to do. Oh! But won't your parents get upset when you don't come home on time?"

'_To be honest, mom'll probably want to murder me. But what's the point of being the future leader of mankind if you can't enjoy the perks that come with it?'_ He silently thought before responding. "They'll understand, especially if I mention having made a new friend already. What about yours?"

"They might get upset and say it's dangerous for me to hang out with the new boy in school all alone by myself. But then again what life is better than one filled with risk and excitement?"

John didn't hesitate in answering, "One with no regrets."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The two pulled into the parking lot of a mall twenty miles outside of town. A few restaurants decorated the outskirts, but other than that there were open fields littered with only a few highways. John had never felt more alone than he did at that precise moment. The mall parking lot wasn't even half full. But that might have something to do with the fact that it was only an hour or so since school let out on a Monday afternoon. Looking at Cameron, he saw her grab her backpack out of the bed of the pick-up and tossed it into the front, prompting him to grab his own backpack and toss it in. As he shut the door he felt a small smile grow on his face as he recalled all the "farmer's daughter" jokes he had thought about when he first saw the truck.

"Make sure to lock it," She said as she walked around the vehicle.

Giving her a curious look, he complied. Shutting the door for the second time he asked. "Doesn't this thing have automatic locks?"

Holding up her keys, she showed him the electronic key to confirm his suspicions. Seeing the device he gave her a look of confusion as to why they had to manually lock it.

"The button for unlocking works, but the one for locking does not. I could try to get it to work, but I don't want to accidently blow up the truck."

Pulling up beside her he commented, "Aren't you over exaggerating a bit?"

Shrugging and giving him a playful smile she chose not to respond, but to continue walking instead. He watched her walk ahead before smirking and jogging to catch up. As they walked a slight buzzing from his pocket alerted him to an incoming call. Pulling out his cell phone he saw his mother's number pop up, it was the third time she tried calling him since he left her a message consisting of "Going out, be back late, I'm safe.". Cameron tilted her head as she looked at the phone vibrating in his hand.

"She's kind of paranoid, huh?"

"She's just worried about my safety since we're in a new area. I don't know why, seeing as how this town doesn't seem capable of being dangerous."

Walking a few paces ahead she called out over her shoulder, "You'd be surprised."

John gave her a puzzled look before turning his cell phone off and following after her.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Richard Ferguson, Science teacher of Red Valley High School finished packing up his papers in his briefcase. This year would mark his fifty-sixth year of life and truth be told he grew more and more disgruntled. All these young, in-born, white trash, hicks had no appreciation for the fine art of Science! Each year the little brats became more ignorant, more disrespectful, and only contributed to the growing stupidity of the nation!

Many of his colleagues and past students would argue that he didn't really believe these accusations. Instead they would say that his thoughts were a byproduct of his bitterness towards anyone and everyone younger than him after his wife left him for a younger man. Ferguson would tell them to kindly fuck off! Making his way to his car he stuck his key in the door when someone walked up directly behind him and spoke.

"Mr. Ferguson?"

Turning around the aged Science instructor locked eyes with a tall, young man appearing to be in his mid-to-early thirties with short brown hair. Ferguson thought he resembled the guy his wife ran away with, but that was how he saw all men younger than him; having been known to view some of his students the same way.

"What?" He asked impatiently.

"Richard Ferguson?" The man asked for clarification.

"Are you stupid? I asked, what do you want?"

"I need you to call it sick tomorrow so I may have access to your class." The man said keeping eye contact and never once blinking or letting his voice waiver.

Ferguson glared, "Now you listen and listen well there is no way I am giving up my one source of pride in life to some young prick like you! The only way you'll be able to take it from me is if you pry it from my cold dead fingers!"

The brown haired man's arm lashed out like a snake and gripped the Science teacher's neck. A quick amount of pressure was applied and a sickening crack followed. Opening the car door and tossing the corpse of Richard Ferguson into the passenger's seat, he climbed in and looked at the dead body before saying, "Thank you for your understanding."

XxXxXxXxXxX

If there was ever a time in John's life when he realized just where he was exactly, it would have to be when he was walking through the "mall" with Cameron. Being fifteen and a former resident of Los Angelus there had been many a time when he would go to the mall with Charlie to shop or hang out. He knew most people his age would do so with friends, but when your biological name was John Connor, you couldn't group yourself with most people. From what he had gathered, most of the malls in and around the city of Los Angelus generally held the same types of stores. Those stores being high price name-brand clothing stores, electronic based stores, thrift stores, and then a small group of miscellaneous stores made up of jewelry, health goods, or restaurants outside of the food court. The mall located on the outskirts of Red Valley however was something else entirely.

All clothing stores focused less on style and more on practicality; their electronics section was composed of a single Best Buy and what looked like the remnants of a Radioshack that was most likely knocked out of business by its opposing electronics distributor. As far as the thrift stores went, the mall had a single Spencer's which seemed to be the cockroach of malls seeing as practically every mall had one and they always managed to survive no matter how good or bad business got. Finally, all miscellaneous stores could be grouped into a new category, agriculture. The mall had everything from riding lawn mower retailers to floral and gardening supplies. Upon discovering this he realized that the mall was less of a city mall and more of an outlet mall and no matter how you look at it, outlet malls sucked!

Lucky for him he wasn't alone. Cameron had managed to take a lot of his focus off the mall and onto her. As they walked and talked about everything and nothing, John would notice her saying rather odd things and asking bizarre questions. At first her comments would put him off, but as he grew more comfortable around her he found them to be amusing and dare he say…cute? Sure some of her comments would be rather way out there, but John wasn't really a prime candidate for social chairman so why should he begrudge others for their oddities?

The two teens walked in silence having run out of topics to discuss and after a few minutes of quiet, John felt the urge to comment on the lack of entertainment to be found, "There really isn't a whole lot to do around Red Valley is there?"

Cameron gave him an amused smile, "Told you moving here would suck for you."

"I wouldn't say it's all that bad," he replied flirtatiously causing her to laugh. "But, it is a bit hard for me to see how this place could be considered one of the towns 'hot spots'."

"Well, there is a cinema on the other side of town, but it can only play four shows at any given time." She supplied.

"So how does the mall beat out the cinema?"

"That's easy. The mall has an arcade below the food court and the cinema doesn't have an arcade at all. It's usually pretty full on Friday and Saturday, lucky for us today is Monday."

John paused as he pulled out his wallet and grabbed a ten dollar bill. Raising it to eye level he asked, "Want to go check it out?"

Snatching the money from his hand, she smiled and replied. "Sure, let's go."

As the two teens made their way to the food court, John couldn't help but notice how Cameron's posture had changed. She was no longer walking beside him, but in front of him as if getting to the arcade was her main objective at that point in time. Her pace was brisk and direct, her gaze straight ahead. It was like she mapped out the shortest route to the food court and deemed it important to get there quickly.

"Whoa, slow down," He called out as he tried to match her pace.

Stopping suddenly and turning on a dime, she tilted her head to the side and asked "Are we not going to the arcade?"

"Well…yeah, but there's no reason to go so fast. It's like, what? 4:30? I don't think we have to worry about getting there before it closes."

"It's currently 4:27. The arcade is still open for another four hours and thirty-three minutes." She replied without breaking eye-contact. If John didn't know any better, he'd have thought she was seeing some sort of invisible clock.

"…Yeah. See? There isn't a need for us to move so quickly. So, why not slow down?"

She paused for a moment before her eyes lit up like she deciphered the answer to some trick question, "Thank you for explaining."

John shook his head is minor disbelief. Part of him was starting to wonder if Cameron suffered from some kind of mental disorder, but like many things regarding her he quickly ignored it. Reasoning stated if she was really as bad as he thought, then there would be no way in hell she would have the level of freedom she displayed. Walking up beside her, he closed the door on that line of thought. If he started viewing her as some sort of mental patient, then there were a lot of bad things that could be said about him when you considered some of his more hormonal thoughts. Besides, even though she seemed incredibly naive at times there were moments when she would come off being much too smart for her age.

Even after returning to their slower pace it took very little time for them to get to the food court. As far as food courts went this one was pretty standard issue. McDonalds for those who wanted the joys only found in a food that was bad for you, Subway for those who wanted to be healthy and think that just by eating there they would lose weight, and a few less mainstream fast-food joints that couldn't afford to own and operate their own buildings. John had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. So far, out of everything in the mall the food court offered the best selection. It was kind of pathetic, when he thought about it.

In the center of the food court surrounded by chairs and tables was a small stairwell leading down. John couldn't fathom how he hadn't noticed it before in any of their previous circuits around the mall. His training would usually always kick in when he entered a new environment. Years of practice meant he would always seek exits, cover and ambush spots; and yet he hadn't been doing much of that at all today. He wanted to write it off by saying he was just rusty after not having the need to analyze his surroundings for the past few months, but a small cynical voice in the back of his head said otherwise. Had John been a cartoon he would have no doubt that a little devil John Connor would poof in sitting on his shoulder telling him his focus wasn't rusty, just preoccupied with something else. Namely the very curvy, very female figure standing nearby.

Give him a gun and tell him to shoot a moving target thirty yards away? No problem. Tell him to control his teenage thoughts and retain a high level of focus on the world around him? Not so easy. When he was younger many of his combat trainers lectured about the importance in finding the most practical solution towards solving problems. However, in this case the most practical solution would be to make John a eunuch and he wasn't particularly interested in that life or the requirements it called for.

'_Here's hoping no life or death situations pop up in the future, because trying to balance the thoughts between both my heads is a pain in the ass.'_ He thought.

Walking down the stairs to the sub-level John got his first glimpse of what counted as an arcade in Red Valley. Like the rest of the town, it was unimpressive. The room was very dark with dim lighting as one would come to expect from an arcade. A majority of the room was dominated by pinball machines along the right wall. Odds were them being cheaper than some of the latest arcade releases. Along the back wall were a series of ticket dispensing games ranging from basket ball based games to revolving light timing games. Considering the back wall was only ten feet long, there was very little selection available. The left wall held a small prize booth and coin exchanger. The booth was currently unoccupied, but a nearby door showed light coming from the bottom. Based on the faint smell coming from that particular direction, John figured the attendant was in the back getting high. In the center of the arcade was a large light-gun game. He recognized it as one of the newer games to occupy most arcades and based on how it was set up, it was to be the tour de force of the small game room.

Reaching into her pocket Cameron procured a small wallet and put the ten dollar bill she snatched from John inside. Moving her fingers around as she sorted through the money, she pulled out two five dollar bills and headed over to the change machine. Putting the two bills in, she grabbed the quarters and held them out to John. Reaching over he took only half of the coins. Tilting her head in confusion, she asked. "Don't you want them all?"

Cocking an eyebrow as he regarded her he answered. "It wouldn't be much fun if I was the only one playing the games."

"Oh." She said whilst nodding her head in understanding.

"So where do we start?"

Cameron gazed around the room, her eyes looking at each and every game before finally landing on the one in the center. Pointing at it, she suggested they play it causing him to look at her in surprise. "Really!? I didn't take you for the gun shooting type."

"There's a lot about me you don't know."

As they approached the machine, John gave it a once over. It was rather large piece of equipment that seemed to be in near perfect condition. Looking at where you inserted the coins, he saw a small sign reading $1.25.

'_Daylight robbery at it's best.'_ He thought to himself as he grabbed one of the light guns. Cameron grabbed hers and they both inserted enough quarters to start the first round. As the opening scene started to play, John spaced his feet shoulder-width apart and grabbed the light gun with both hands, treating it like a normal handgun. Throwing a quick glance at his partner he took note of her ramrod appearance. She held the light gun in her right hand with the arm fully extended. John couldn't fathom how she could possible keep her arm up like that long enough to play the game without it getting tired.

The opening ended and the first stage commenced allowing the two players to go to town against their virtual opponents. A few minutes into the first round and they were still going strong. As John took down another of the game's enemies he took a quick glance at Cameron's side of the screen and couldn't help but feel impressed with how well she was holding up. As the first stage came to an end, he looked at his stats and couldn't tell if he was pleased or upset. His accuracy was ranked in the 92 percentile; not bad, but it wasn't by any means his best. Looking at his partner's score his eyes widened as he saw her rank was in the 97 percentile. As he looked at her, she gave him a smug smile. Smirking back he said. "I'm just warming up."

With his declaration made, the second stage commenced. With both players starting it with low life, it wasn't long before they both had to insert another round of quarters to continue. As the game progressed each player tried to out due the other. However, despite the competitive edge that was becoming more and more apparent as time passed, John and Cameron never failed to cover each other. While one would reload the other would cover both sides of the screen; if one was getting overwhelmed, then the other would back them up. The two players were a devastating combination and made the most out of their five quarters. As the second round came to a close the percentiles read John 94 and Cameron 95.

"Still warming up?" She asked.

"Big talk for someone who went down two points. I'll get you this time." He declared.

The stat screen disappeared and the third round began with both players more focused than ever. As John fought against the computer he felt his body instinctively move when shots were fired at him. While his movements weren't as dramatic as they would be should he truly be shot at, the fact that he was moving at all was a sure sign of how engrossed he was becoming. Cameron, for her part never once moved from the position she started at when they began in the first stage.

Three minutes into the third round and both players were forced to once again insert more coins to continue after losing their remaining lives. The $1.25 charge was really starting to take full effect as both players were left with just enough money for one more continue. John couldn't help but hope the game would end soon; he didn't like the idea of getting as far as they had and not being able to finish, his fears only worsened when his lives were systematically taken from him and forced him to put in his last five quarters. As he hit the continue button a feeling of relief washed over him as the last of the virtual opponents fell making the game go to a cut scene that led the two players towards the final boss.

All hell broke loose in the virtual world as John and Cameron began fighting the final boss. Throughout the battle the two teens found themselves constantly switching from offense to defense then back to offense as they gave the game their all. The boss was nearing its end when a lucky shot managed to take Cameron's remaining life. Reaching into her pocket to grab her last five quarters a few of the coins slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. John saw her drop to the floor in his peripheral as she quickly tried to gather the coins. With his attention divided the final boss managed to land a hit on him and took him to his final life. Knowing the end was near he gave the boss everything he could throw at it. Seconds from death, the monster released a large number of projectiles that the players could shoot to destroy. Knowing there were too many for him to take out himself, John did the only thing he could think of; ignore his impending death and hopefully kill the boss first.

Cameron was still on the floor and had just inserted her fourth quarter when a loud roar coming from the game drew her attention. Looking up she saw the final boss fall down dead. Her partner in crime let out a long sigh as his entire body relaxed. Standing back up she congratulated him on his success. John turned to look at her and replied, "Thanks, but in complete honesty you did better than me. How did you get so good?"

"That…" she paused. "…Is a secret."

John gave her an amused look as he turned to look back at the game's screen and saw it prompting them for one more quarter. Bending over he pressed the button to return the four quarters Cameron had inserted; there was no reason to play the game again after beating it. As he released the button his brow furrowed when the machine failed to return the coins. He pushed the button several more times before he stood up in frustration and kicked the machine.

"Piece of crap." He muttered in annoyance.

"Want me to break it open?" She asked in an oddly serious tone.

"Tempting, but somehow I think that would cause more harm than good."

Looking at the final quarter in her hand, Cameron held it out for John to take. Taking the coin he looked at her in askance.

"It was your money to begin with, so I figured I'd give it back. Besides the only game you can play with one quarter is that one." She explained while pointing at the spinning light game. Shrugging he walked over to it and inspected the machine. It was a fairly common attraction in arcades providing kids the chance to win a jackpot of tickets for one quarter. Most of the time however, players would land on the spots just before or just after the jackpot and receive the complimentary prize of three to five tickets. The game was incredibly deceptive as well; making it seem like landing on the jackpot would be easy. However the simple fact of the matter was that the light moved just fast enough to make it near impossible for anyone to accurately stop it at the precise moment necessary. Looking at the digital reader to see where the jackpot was at, John saw the big red numbers 687 staring back at him.

'_Remember kids, gambling is good for you.'_ He mockingly thought as he inserted the last quarter.

Cameron, who had been standing beside him, felt compelled to speak. "You do realize the odds of you hitting the jackpot are incredibly low right?"

John turned his back to the machine as he regarded her. "Oh I have no doubt the odds of me succeeding are low…but when it comes to me and the odds, there is one very important thing to keep in mind." Not taking a second to look at the machine, he raised his hand and hit the button to stop the light. A loud buzzer went off signifying that someone had hit the jackpot. Grinning like the cat that caught the canary he finished his explanation. "I have a tendency to ignore them."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The sun had long since set as Cameron pulled up to his house, parking her truck on the side of the dirt road. Looking at building, John felt a sense of trepidation. While it was too dark to see his mother's figure, he had no doubt that she was watching from the window with a gun in hand should he be in danger. Knowing he was already going to be receiving the riot act from his mother, he chose to ignore her rule about showing others where he lived.

'_Best make my last moments of freedom count.'_ He thought with resignation. Turning to Cameron he tried to think about what he should say to her. A million possibilities ran through his mind and choosing one of them felt like playing Russian roulette, one mistake and you can kiss your ass goodbye. For her part, Cameron remained quiet and patient as she waited for him to speak.

"I'm sorry," he quickly blurted out. Tilting her head to the side like she usually did when confused prompted John to elaborate. "I lied this morning…My dad doesn't sell insurance….He's dead. He was a soldier and died while on a mission."

Cameron looked at him in shock and apologized for his loss. Not wanting her to feel like she opened up some deep emotional scar he tried to quickly reassure her. "No, no. It's okay. You see, my mom was pregnant with me when it happened so I never really got to know him." He paused for a second to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I guess you can say I'm all she's got. She's always trying to be there for me and protect me. That's mainly why I was hesitant when you asked to hang out after school."

"What changed?"

John leaned back in his seat and stared at the roof of the truck while he mused, "I honestly don't know…Maybe I just realized that I'm getting older and can't rely on her for everything anymore. I mean she won't always be there for me and nothing good will come from me depending too much on her."

"…Thank you for explaining," She said giving him a soft smile before adding. "It'll be our little secret."

An awkward silence came over the two and John once again felt the urge to say more, but he didn't know what. As the silence dragged on he started to curse his life and his mother's constant need to run away. Not living in one place for long meant he never had the chance to develop any social skills; no attachment, no friends, no social skills. Even worse though was his lack of experience when it came to girls he found attractive.

Reading the look on his face, Cameron chose to take the initiative this time around. "Thank you…for today."

John gave her a sideways glance before turning to face her and replying, "There's no need to thank me, I didn't really do anything. If anything I should be thanking you. You were the one that got me to open up and have fun, you took your time to show me around, and you've practically been my taxi all over town."

"None of that would have happened had you not changed your mind." She rationalized. "Also it was you who paid for us to play at the arcade _and_ you got me this." She said holding up her right arm to show off a string bracelet with dangling the yin half of a yin-yang made out of some cheap metal. John was wearing the yang half on his left wrist. Out of all the prizes the arcade had available the yin-yang bracelet that mimicked a BFF necklace was, at least mildly cool. Everything else they could have gotten with their winnings was crap.

"Um…well then, you're welcome…I guess." He said feeling unsure. Once again silence filled the air and caused John to start fidgeting. What should he say? What should he do? Say good-bye and leave? See you later? Should he try to take things a little further? She seemed interested in him and he was definitely interested in her. But wouldn't it be too fast? It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since they first met this morning. Looking at her he noticed that she didn't seem impatient, but expectant. Was she waiting for him to make the first move or to say something else? Looking at her lips, one thought dominated his mind, No regrets.

Quickly leaning over he gave Cameron a chaste kiss on the lips. Time slowed down and milliseconds became eternity. An eternity in which John was yelling at himself. '_Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap! What are you doing, John you fucking idiot! You barely know her and your already hoping to suck her face off! God, kill me! If you're too busy then maybe someone can rebuild SKYNET and it can kill me. Then again its 0 for 2 when it comes to killing me, so maybe it would be better if you did it.'_

Pulling back with a speed that would leave you thinking he was burned, John quickly looked to the floor in shame. Feeling guilty for his actions, he felt it best to apologize. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"Then why did you?" She asked neutrally, but with a tinge of curiosity.

"Like a lot of things I've done today, I don't know. Moving around so often kept me from learning what to do when it comes to pretty girls. I enjoyed hanging out with you so much today and I didn't know how to end it. So, I went with what I felt was the right thing to do…I don't really feel that was such a good idea now though."

"…John?"

Raising his head to look her in the eye he braced himself for the worse. He probably just lost his first real friend in years. The two stared at each other for a moment before Cameron leant over and gave him a chaste kiss of her own. This time the kiss lasted longer and left John feeling confused. While the kiss felt nice and all it also felt like a cheap imitation of their first and he couldn't figure out why. There was nothing passionate about the kiss, no tongue action, no ruffling of clothes, nothing but lip on lip contact; a simple sign of affection. As she pulled back, John felt like he was on cloud nine. Despite the confusion that came from their second kiss he still felt like he was floating on air.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked brightly.

"Sure." She answered giving him a gentle smile.

Opening the door, he stepped out and grabbed his book bag from the truck's bed before heading towards the front door. As he approached the house he had to try his hardest not to have a skip in his step. He figured he made a fool out of himself enough for one night. Reaching the door he turned the handle before looking back at Cameron and waving good-bye. She returned the gesture before driving off. Stepping into the house he wore a bright smile before a hand lashed out and smacked him across the face.

'_And there goes that loving feeling.'_ He thought as he looked at his mother. The intensity of her stare made him wonder if she was trying to burn a hole through his head.

"Mom," He greeted evenly.

"What the hell were you thinking? Not even a week has passed since we've moved here and you pull this shit!?" She nearly yelled.

"I left you a message."

"'Going out. Be back late.' is not an acceptable explanation!"

"Seemed acceptable to me. Especially since you wouldn't have let me gone in the first place."

"You assumed I wouldn't let you go. Since you never asked, we'll never know what would have happened!" She argued.

"I don't have to assume anything, because I know you." He shot back, doing his best to remain calm. Nothing ever good came from anger. "You're always changing your mind and every time, _every_ time I finally catch up you change your mind again. Sometimes I have to wonder if you even know what it is you want for me."

"I know exactly what I want for you!" She said in a much calmer tone. Yelling wasn't getting them anywhere. "I want you to be safe, to be ready. You know what's out there, John. Do you really want to put all your faith in the belief that we averted Judgment day just because Cyberdyne was destroyed?"

"So, what? I'm to live the rest of my life based on something that may or may not happen?" He countered. If she was going to try using the logic card, then so would he. "How can I enjoy life if I never get the chance to live? If you're right about us not stopping Judgment day, then now is the time for me to treat everyday like it's my last. Because when the bombs fall, this world, this life, it ends!"

Her anger having dissolved, she quietly replied. "No John, I don't want you to lose your one chance at a normal life. But I also don't want you taking any unnecessary risks. You know the rules and you know the reasons for them."

"The rules are outdated!" He snapped. "They may have worked when I was six, but that was almost ten _years_ ago! How can I have a normal life if you're always holding my hand!? Can't you see I'm ready to stand on my own two feet?"

"You're not ready, John!" Sarah said, raising her voice. "Maybe most kids might start trying to stand on their own now, but you're not like most kids!"

"I'm not a kid at all!" He yelled. It may have seemed like a childish statement; a teen declaring their independence, but for him there was much more meaning in those words. "Kids don't grow up in jungles! They're not trained by guerilla fighters and revolutionaries! They don't know how to hack computers! Or handle automatic weapons! Or anything else I can do!" Leveling a harsh glare at her, he finished coldly. "Kids don't have crazy mothers who're only concerned with keeping them alive for a war that may never happen!"

-SMACK-

He barely had enough time to finish his last sentence before Sarah smacked him. Having spent three years in a mental institution, using words like crazy, mad, insane, etc. in reference to her were considered an unforgivable offense. What made the situation worse however, was who spoke those words. Tears welled up in Sarah's eyes as she looked at her son. John's face had been knocked to the side from the force of his mother's blow and his cheek was beginning to turn a brilliant shade of red. Logic and reasoning had fled in place of anger as John turned his head and locked eyes with his mother once again.

"Don't you _ever_ call me crazy again, you hear me!? I don't care how upset you may feel, nor do I care how you feel towards me, you will _not_ disrespect me!" She hissed.

"…I don't believe you care at all." He coldly replied before stormy off.

"Where do you think you're going? Come back here this instant! I'm not finished talking to you yet!" She yelled.

"Well I am!" He yelled back before slamming the door to his room and locking it.

John paced around the room like a caged animal, ready to strike at anything. He was angry and frustrated, but he couldn't tell if it was at himself for storming off like a toddler that didn't get their way or at his mother for acting more like a prison warden than an actual parent. For his entire life all she ever seemed to care about was his role as savior of humanity. Looking back at his childhood he could hardly recall anytime she ever truly acted like a mother to him. In fact the _only_ time he ever felt she acted as a mother should was when she had read the Wizard of Oz in Spanish to him as a child.

He kicked the wall a few times to try and vent, but it only succeeded in making him angrier. Anger truly was a dangerous emotion. It had the power to get its victim to act more rashly and impulsive than any level of alcohol ever could. His pacing brought more anger towards himself.

'_Yeah John, you're really ready to stand on your own now,'_ He fumed while thinking of the conversation he just had with his mother.

Throwing himself on the bed he grabbed his CD player off the nightstand and put the headphones on before cranking the volume. Sleep would not come easily for him tonight. But then again, it never did.

(To be continued)

A/N: Alright this is my third project and will be my longest (obviously) and biggest one to date. This is the first time I've ever written +10k words for a chapter and looking at chapter two this trend will continue. So updates will not be measured in days or weeks, but weeks and possibly month(s) (1-2 depending). As I stated in my profile, John will be more pro-active in this story and you see some of that here. The changes will be more prominent in the next chapter. Jameron fans don't get too excited by this chapter, because their interaction here will have consequences. This will be a Jameron fic, but as Big D on a Diet said in his story, "I'm going to make them work for it."

Next chapter will cover the pilot and this will be the trend I try to set for the story; each episode being two chapters. But that is subject to change and there may be times when I break chapters into three parts instead of two depending on what all happens. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Welcome back to Kansas, John

(Disclaimer: Don't own TSCC or anything else that could be linked to copyright material)

(AN: Once again special thanks to my beta, Fortex for helping me iron out any flaws in the chapter)

**Chapter 2: Welcome back to Kansas, John.**

The next morning John walked slowly to his Science class. Breakfast had been a gloomy affair with the Connors still upset at one another. Only a handful of words were exchanged, mostly comprising of "good morning" and "goodbye". The philosophy of "If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all" held true for them. After all, they only had each other making it impossible for the two of them to truly sever their ties. But one had to wonder if their bond was truly that of mother and child.

'_Then again, this last row could be considered the unfairness of parental authority.'_ John mused.

Stepping foot into the classroom he plopped down in his seat and dropped his book bag on the floor. The sound of it slamming on the ground drew the attention of most everyone in the room. John didn't bother acknowledging their looks, he knew that in situations such as these the easiest way to get everyone to ignore you was to ignore them first. Sure enough, the rest of the class soon returned to their own devices.

Once again retaining the identity of the weird new kid, he slouched in his seat and let time drizzle by. At five till, he sat back up and started getting his things out of his book bag. Reaching in, he thumbed through the contents while keeping the mouth of the bag as closed as possible. Should anyone see the black case for his Colt Anaconda, there would be all sorts of hell. The case was roughly the size of a large textbook and fit easily inside the pack, but it was still risky to carry it around school. Fortunately security was pretty lax. And for a rural town like Red Valley it was nonexistent. Teachers didn't search students' backpacks without good reason. And for someone who mastered the art of being unexceptional; keeping under the radar was a walk in the park.

Pushing the case aside he took hold of both his notebook and textbook. As his hand brushed against the interior it came into contact with a rough material that hadn't been there the day before. John looked up to make sure no one was nearby before opening the bag a little wider to investigate. With the extra light flowing in he was able to see the familiar material of a Kevlar vest sewn into the material of his backpack.

'_Can't even trust me to walk down the street without getting shot.'_ He thought bitterly. A flash of pink to the side caught his attention and he quickly shut the mouth of the bag. Looking to the side he saw Cameron wearing a pink blouse with blue jeans, her head was tilted to the side, her face adorned with a soft smile

"Hey," She greeted.

"…Hey," He returned, albeit quieter. He was still uncertain how to handle her having just met the day before and kissing her less than twelve hours later.

Her eyes traveled to the right side of his face where the skin was bruised from his mother's slap. She reached out and gently touched the discolored skin. "Are you ok?"

Taking hold of her wrist he slowly moved it away. "I'm fine."

"Fine, never means fine." She quipped.

John gave a small huff in annoyance. "My mom says that exact same thing. Word for word."

"I knew someone who would say it to his friends all the time."

Giving her a small laugh, he repeated that everything was alright and not to worry. She seemed to take the hint and didn't press any further. Shortly later the bell rang and everyone took their seat. As they were sitting down a man, looking to be in his mid to late thirties with short dark brown hair and rather casual clothes entered the room carrying a briefcase. He walked with a brisk pace towards the teacher's desk. As he did so he said, "Mr. Ferguson is ill today." Setting the briefcase down and opening it he looked around the class before continuing. "My name is, Cromartie."

"Is that your only name? Like Madonna?" The snooty voice of a girl, whose name John couldn't remember or even care to, asked.

"Madonna? ...Why? …No." He replied causing the class to laugh. But while they grew relaxed, John grew tense. The hairs on the back of his neck started standing on end and his instincts were screaming at him. It was like when he had first met Cameron, but this time more frightening, more…primal. What the class heard as a joke, he heard as genuine curiosity that had been quickly written off as unimportant.

Sitting down with most of his upper body hidden by the open briefcase, Cromartie grabbed a sheet of paper and said, "Let's take attendance…Maria Booeye?"

"Here." The bitch-princess from earlier responded.

"…Donald Chase?"

"Here..."

All sound faded away as John's five senses continued telling him to run. While the substitute teacher's full body couldn't be seen, John was certain the man was doing something with his right hand below the desk based on the subtle movements from his shoulder. At first, he tried reasoning that the guy was simply marking attendance, but somehow he knew that wasn't true. His intuition just kept refusing to be won over like they had with Cameron. Speaking of Cameron, it seemed that Cromartie had reached her name on the attendance sheet. Looking around the room, he asked. "Cameron…where are you?"

John resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at his one friend in Red Valley. He was sure there was a rational explanation for why she wasn't speaking up…at least he hoped there was.

"…Here." She finally answered. If there was a single hair on John's neck that wasn't on edge before, it was now. The voice he heard wasn't the playful, friendly one he had come to associate with the pretty brunette he kissed the night before. It was curt…cold…unemotional…mechanical. Slowly his left arm moved down to his book bag and gripped the corresponding shoulder strap.

"Reese? Do we have a John Reese?"

'_RUN!'_ His mind, body, and soul screamed. Against his better judgment, he raised his right hand up slightly; his left tightening its hold on the backpack.

"Excellent." Cromartie praised as he abruptly stood up holding a nine-millimeter handgun.

'_SHIT!'_ He screamed in his head, finally on the same page as his instincts. The familiar sound of a gun chamber sliding back warned him long before he actually saw the gun. As he dove to the floor he swung his book bag around and slid his right arm through the opposing strap. A bullet whizzed overhead, telling him his lucky streak from the night before was still going strong. Jumping up he ran for the door while Cromartie threw the teacher's desk aside with a strength that could only be considered inhuman. Raising his gun, the pseudo-substitute took aim at his target's back.

As he passed the first chemistry table, John felt someone roughly shove him from the side causing him to fall between the lab tables. Three shots went off and the sound of a body hitting the floor behind him was heard. As his mind registered the series of events he became fearful of what lay behind. Turning around his fears became a nightmare as he saw Cameron on the floor. Her eyes shut and her chest didn't show the tell-tale signs of breathing. Instead it showed three blood stains from three bullet wounds.

"No…" He muttered in denial. She couldn't be dead! The sounds of screaming and desks being flung about reminded him, he was still in danger. "…Run…" He prompted as he got back to his feet before ordering himself again. "Run!"

The door was no longer a viable option. It would only bring him closer to Cromartie who had been trying to make his way around the table. With that exit cut off he ran towards the next best option, the window. Two more shots were fired. One of the bullets caught his book bag causing him to stumble out of the path of the second bullet. The wayward slug hit the window, shattering it. Regaining his footing, John chanced a quick glance at his attacker.

The man wasn't a man at all! But a terminator! If the unnatural strength wasn't evidence enough, then the giant hole in his leg with synthetic skin dangling was. The handgun the machine had been using was no longer pointing at him. Instead, Cromartie was using the fabric of his shirt to try and clear the false blood off the gun. John felt a rush of relief as he realized the gun had jammed. Not wasting another second he dove through the window. As he neared the ground he saw it littered with broken glass and raised his arms to shield his face. Hitting the ground he used his forward momentum to turn his dive into a roll and shot to his feet.

"GAH!" He yelled in pain as his right hand gripped his left arm. Running from the classroom he looked at his arm and saw a shard of glass sticking out of it. He automatically made the parking lot his destination. If he could hotwire a car he'd have a better chance of escape than if he tried to make it on foot. But that wasn't the only reason. Red Valley High School was surrounded by open fields on all sides. Trying to run away on foot without anything to cover him would be suicide. While cars weren't truly capable of stopping bullets, despite Hollywood's belief in the opposite, they did do a good job hiding you from view. Rule of thumb was you can't hit what you can't see.

Up ahead he saw a bus parked by the side of the lot. He knew he needed to keep the line of sight between him and the terminator blocked for as long as possible. If Cromartie couldn't establish his location he would have more time to act and better odds of surviving. Running around the hood of the bus he hid behind the side facing away from the school. Glancing quickly over the hood he saw his assassin step out of the window he jumped through earlier. Staying in shape had definitely been a wise decision on his part. Ducking back out of sight, he estimated he had roughly two minutes before Cromartie would establish the parking lot as the most likely destination of his target and get close enough to continue the assault.

John leaned against the side of the bus while he caught his breath. The pain in his arm reminded him that he was still acting as a pin cushion for a rather large piece of glass. Getting a firm hold of the shard with his right hand, he took a few deep breaths and ripped it out. He bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out and forced the feelings of nausea down. Dropping the glass fragment he covered the badly bleeding wound with his right hand to stem the blood flow. Panic started setting in as he tried to think of what he should do. Hundreds of thoughts ran through his mind. I need to run! I need mom! I need to stop bleeding! I'm going to die! Cameron died! It's my fault!

His right hand now stained with his blood moved on its own accord and his index finger and middle finger dug into the puncture wound. He hissed in pain as his mind registered the sensation and his fingers moved back to their original position. When the pain ebbed his mind was once again filled with clarity. The use of pain to keep your mind from becoming overwhelmed had been a lesson from one of his teachers in South America. The name of the man escaped him, but his lessons did not.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The man had been a medic for a band of revolutionaries his mother was serving at the time. While she was away on missions, he would act as babysitter. Needless to say, John spent a lot of time at their makeshift hospital and saw many things that children his age should never encounter. However for the young seven year old, such sights were normal. One day a young soldier came in badly injured and John watched with grotesque fascination as his watcher worked. Halfway into the operation the soldier's heart stopped beating, but the man never lost his cool. He ordered the rest of the doctors to assist. While they worked, John heard some of the other men say it was too late, but the head medic didn't stop.

It was a great shock to all, himself included when the wounded soldier's heart started beating again. The man regained consciousness and started hyperventilating. John heard one of the doctors say he was going into shock. His minder called for a sedative and one of the assistants ran for the supply cabinet. As the soldier's condition started to get worse he watched as the doctor dug a gloved finger into one of the open bullet wounds and caused the patient to cry out in pain, slowing his breathing. The assistant soon returned and the sedative was administered.

"I'll leave the rest to you." The doctor said to his assistants as he walked over towards him. Taking his bloodied gloves off and throwing them in the trash, he walked over to a small water basin stained red with many soldiers' life fluid. Washing his hands in the dirty water he dried them off and grabbed the basin; it was past due for changing. Little John Connor quickly got up and followed after him. As the two neared the camp's water supply the man spoke. "Remember, John. When the situation is dire and everyone thinks it's hopeless, there are three things you must always do. Stop the bleeding, start the breathing, and treat for shock."

The seven year old boy said nothing, but nodded his head in understanding.

XxXxXxXxX

'_Stop the bleeding,'_ John repeated. As he tore the left sleeve of his jacket off and ripped it into strips before rapidly wrapping it around his injury. With his arm taken care of he moved on to the next step, "Start the breathing". That part was easier to figure out. He needed a car and he needed to get the hell away from Red Valley High School and Cromartie. After that he would need to…No! Don't think about the third step when you haven't completed the second! Bringing his left arm up, he wiped the sweat off his brow ignoring the blood that transferred from the contact. The mixture of running for his life, pulling a piece of glass out of his arm, and the clothing he wore worked against him, making him hotter than he cared for.

As he started to lower his arm a shiny glint coming from his wrist caught his attention. Looking closely he realized it was his half of the bracelet he got with Cameron the day before. As he watched the cheap piece of metal dangle from his wrist feelings of guilt, shame, and anger started coursing through his veins. The bracelet stared at him accusingly, as if calling him a coward.

The memory of her lying on the floor motionless continued to loop in his mind increasing the feelings of guilt and anger exponentially. Carefully walking towards the edge of the bus he peeked around the hood to get a better view at Cameron's murderer. He only got to see the terminator briefly before he quickly pulled his head back and out of the path of Cromartie's bullet. His cover blown, he immediately made for the parking lot while the terminator shot blindly at the bus each bullet just barely missing him. As he entered the maze of cars he ducked down behind a pick-up. '_Fucking computers! Every single one of those shots came way too close!'_

The loud crash and screech of metal being dragged coaxed John from his hiding place to get a sense of things. It didn't take long to figure out what caused the commotion as he saw the bus he'd been hiding behind resting on its side. Quickly, he ducked back out of sight. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Cromartie was doing. The terminator was trying to take the high ground so it would have an easier time spotting him. As long as John stayed out of the machine's line of sight he was safe, albeit temporarily. Looking around to get a better sense of his location, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the irony. The truck he happened to hide behind was Cameron's.

'_Even in death, she manages to watch over me.'_ He thought morosely. He had to wonder if this was fair. An innocent girl, whose only mistake seemed to be associating with him, was dead. In war, such sacrifices were called collateral damage. It was the one thing John hated most about the leaders of any war. Calling people collateral damage was the same as stripping them of their humanity.

Looking at the bracelet again he was overcome with emotion. The first time he saw it he felt guilt, shame, and anger. Soon shame faded away and his guilt and anger increased. Now his guilt was gone and his anger remained. His anger grew, his face furrowed and when it reached its peek…his anger morphed into hate. Hate for himself, hate for Cromartie, hate for SKYNET, and hate for the whole fucking world for making him its savior.

Sliding the backpack off his shoulders he unzipped it and pulled out the black case carrying his gun. Unhooking the latches, he opened it up to see it shining at him, as if to say, "Take me John, and we will punish those who wronged us!" Grabbing it by its wooden grip, he released the cylinder and started loading the six bullets that were in the case. Carrying a gun to school was dangerous; carrying a loaded gun to school was just plain stupid. With the six bullets loaded, he flicked his wrist and snapped the cylinder back into position. His eyes were drawn to the inscription on the barrel. As he read it, he quietly spoke to himself. "…Justice for all, indeed."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Cromartie gazed over the parking lot for the second time, flipping though the many modes of vision SKYNET offered its soldiers. Humans were such troublesome creatures. Even in the face of death they clung desperately for survival. Didn't they realize they were only delaying the inevitable? That by struggling they subjected themselves to unnecessary pain? Such actions were foolish…illogical…stupid.

Finishing his second scan of the parking lot, he failed to find any sign of John Connor. It would only be a matter of time before the police or Sarah Connor showed up and he could not allow anything to interfere. Not when he was so close to fulfilling his objective. Cromartie moved and walked towards the edge of the bus, he couldn't afford to waste anymore time looking for a sign of his target. He'd have to seek him out the old fashioned way.

Off in the distance his scanners caught sight of movement too large to be anything less than a human body. Turning towards the source of the disturbance, he zoomed in and identified it as being John Connor. Cromartie raised its gun.

-BANG-

The sound of a gun going off roared through the air, but it wasn't Cromartie's. A harsh impact slammed into the terminator's shoulder causing him to stumble back and his shot to go wide. John Connor was armed. And based on the damage readings, he was well armed. Cromartie ignored the warnings and moved to raise his arm again, but this time it moved much slower. The grinding of metal on metal could be heard coming from his shoulder as his arm twitched and jerked.

-BANG-

John Connor fired again. Another impact slammed into the center of the terminator's chest. The high density armor plating took most of the damage this time around, but the force still managed to knock him off balance. Stepping back, he lost his footing when he reached the edge of the bus and fell off. Laying on his back he quickly assessed the damage. His chest plate had stopped the bullet and only caused minimum damage to his endoskeleton, but his right arm had been compromised. The round had torn through the thin metal plating and left fragments interfering with the movements of his shoulder joint. The damage would hinder his combat capabilities, but it didn't matter. He may not be able to charge his target head on, but that wouldn't be enough to save John Connor's life.

XxXxXxXxX

John ran hard. Putting as much distance as he could from both Cromartie and his original position. After putting two rounds in the terminator and knocking its ass off the bus, he knew he wouldn't get a better chance to retreat. His backpack, now empty of all his school supplies, hung off his shoulders shielding his upper-body. The Kevlar would do better protecting him from 9mm rounds than any of the cars could. In his right hand he carried Justice, his gun. As stupid as it sounded, he found it quicker and more fitting to refer to it by the first word of its inscription rather than its official title.

'_That son of a bitch put three rounds in Cameron, so I'll put all six rounds in him!'_ He vowed as he ran. While he fully intended to carry out his promise, he knew there was no reason to pursue his assassin. Cromartie was programmed to kill him. So why chase after the machine when it would chase after him? Besides, he only had four shots left and needed to conserve his ammo until he could get more. Just because he promised to put all six rounds in Cromartie, didn't mean he would objet to any extra credit.

-BANG-

A shot rang through the air and slammed into John's backpack, knocking him to the ground. He groaned as he picked himself up and rolled between two cars, making sure to stay prone. Even though the Kevlar managed to stop the bullet, the impact hurt like hell. The passenger window of the car to his right exploded from being hit by a 9mm slug and rained glass down upon him. John noticed a trend as a bullet would hit the upper portion of the two cars every few seconds.

"SHIT!" he yelled. '_That bastard is keeping me pinned!'_

As the bullets continued to hit, John started counting. If he was going to escape or fight back he'd have to do it while Cromartie reloaded.

-BANG-

'…_9…'_

-BANG-

'…_10…'_

-BANG-

'…_11…'_

Silence…

'…_12.'_ He rectified as he stood up and swung his gun around trying to find his enemy. But the machine was nowhere to be seen. It was hiding while it reloaded, he realized. The damage he had dealt must have left an impression on the terminator. His gun continued to swing wildly as he searched back and forth. First left, then right, then left again. As he was beginning to swing his arm right, he heard a sound off in the distance to his left. He couldn't be certain, but he thought it had sounded like a car door slamming. He focused left only to see Cromartie stand up to his right, gun trained on his position.

'_CRAP!'_ He thought as he dropped to the ground to avoid being shot. Again he lay prone on the asphalt, but now the glass shards were resting below him rather than on him. John grimaced as he felt the tiny shards dig into his chest, arms, and legs. His clothes kept a lot of the pieces from puncturing the skin, but he knew if he managed to get out of this he'd have a lot of scratches decorating his body.

It didn't take long for Cromartie to reach his position and when his shadow fell over him, he knew it was over. John looked up at the face of his executioner. He took note of a hole the size of a half-dollar in his right shoulder. The round he put in Cromartie's chest didn't have a hole, but it did reveal the metal plating underneath and a dent formed by the round still lodged between the metal.

As prey and predator locked eyes, John found he had only one regret in life. That regret was not being able to avenge Cameron. '_I'm sorry Cam, I failed…I hope you can forgive me.'_

Cromartie was starting to squeeze the trigger when the sound of a car engine revving drew both their attentions. As the terminator turned his head, he had enough time to register an incoming truck before it slammed into him and carried him away from his target. The driver of the vehicle quickly slammed on the brakes and sent the machine sailing. John for his part stared in shock as the creepily familiar truck was put into reverse and stopped just in front of him, the passenger door quickly opened and he locked eyes with the one and only Cameron Phillips.

"Come with me if you want to live." She said with no emotion. John didn't waste any time thinking. Bending over he scooped up his gun and ran for the truck. Jumping in the passenger seat and slamming the door, the vehicle sped off. As they passed Cromartie, he took a moment to watch the machine pick itself up. The terminator glanced in their direction but did not give chase, something John found odd. Turning around he rested his head against the back of the seat and let his body relax. He was alive! He managed to avoid death yet again! Speaking of death…

'…_Cameron!'_ he thought. Looking over in her direction he stared at her face. Her feminine features were incredibly blank if you excluded the look of determination as she stared straight ahead.

She wasn't dead either! But how? Hadn't she been shot three times? Looking down, sure enough he saw three small bloodstains decorating her pink blouse. Looking back up, he locked eyes with her as she stared blankly at him. Suddenly it hit him harder than she hit Cromartie with the truck. Cameron wasn't dead because she had never been alive to begin with! She was just like Cromartie, a machine from the future! Cameron Phillips was a terminator…

XxXxXxXxXxX

Sarah Connor stood two miles outside of Red Valley High School perched behind a rock with a pair of binoculars in hand. She had been working part-time at a diner in town when the T.V. hooked up for the customers convenience had an emergency broadcast stating that shots had been fired at the town's school. The newscaster's words made her blood run cold. There was only one thing in Red Valley worth killing and that one thing was at Red Valley High School. To be more specific, that one thing was her son.

Peering through the binoculars she tried to locate John amongst the throngs of people outside the school. So far no one had been rolled out in a body bag, but that fact left her with little comfort. Her view was suddenly blocked as a body appeared within her line of sight. She quickly pulled away from the binoculars but wasn't able to avoid the hand that grasped her throat and sent her soaring through the air. She flew roughly seven feet before slamming on the dirt ground hard, forcing the air from her lungs. Before she could recover a strong hand once again gripped her throat and pinned her down.

"Sarah Connor?" Her assailant half asked, half stated.

Her green eyes shot open and glared at the thing holding her down. She knew the second it sent her flying it wasn't human. But almost everyone would have drawn that conclusion when they saw the deep cuts in its "face" revealing the shiny metal endoskeleton underneath or the hole in its shoulder where a mechanical grinding could be heard. A similar hole could be found in the center of its chest. However that one could only be called skin deep as the flesh around the hole was torn and partially burned away revealing more of the machine's metal body. Sarah wasn't certain, but she swore she saw a .44 caliber round lodged into the chest plate, the exact same caliber her son uses. Logic dictated that he was responsible for the two bullet wounds dotting the machine's chest.

"Where is he!? What have you done with him!?" She demanded.

Cromartie stared at her for a moment before lifting her up with his left arm and slamming her head against the ground, knocking her unconscious. She didn't know the location of John Connor and she was not to be taken lightly. Especially with his right arm crippled as it was. Standing up he slung her over his shoulder and made for her car. Even though she couldn't provide him with any information, she could still serve some use. History showed that John wouldn't abandon his mother. With her in his possession he had a bargaining chip he could use should the need arise. As he started to shut the door a ringing sound came from Sarah Connor's jacket. Bending over he fished the cell phone out of her pocket. Changing his voice to match that of his hostage, he answered the phone.

"John?"

John's voice came through the ear piece sounding slightly panicked, "Mom?"

"John where are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you." Cromartie questioned trying to find his target's location.

"Shut up for a second! Listen to me they're ! God dammit that hurts!" He said, his voice breaking up.

"John what's wrong? What's going on? Where are you?" The terminator interrogated. It seemed there _was_ a third party involved.

"Hold on, mom….Will you cut it out!?...Yeah, well can't it wait?...Look I'm not going to pass out in the next five minutes so let me finish talking to my mom first…Dammit I know that! Now will you shut up and let me finish talking!?" Cromartie overheard. John seemed to finish his conversation with whoever he was with as his attention returned to his 'mother'. "Sorry, bout that."

"Who's there, John?"

"Don't worry about that! Listen, there's a terminator loose in Red Valley! He nearly killed me and he might try to come after you! You shouldn't have any trouble spotting him since he's pretty banged up."

"Thanks for the warning. Where are you?"

"…I'm on my way to the house. I'm running low on ammo." He answered.

"I'll meet you there, understand?"

"Yeah, I understand." Cromartie was about to hang up the phone when John spoke again. "Mom?"

"Yes, John?"

"I love you." He said.

The terminator deduced that John was seeking comfort and responded in kind. "I love you too. I'll see you at the house."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Cameron and John had been driving for roughly ten minutes. The teenage boy was leaning back in his seat rubbing his wounded arm with his right hand after setting Justice on the dashboard. His cyborg companion glanced over at him before pulling over to the side of the road. Glancing around the area outside the truck he turned to face her, all the while wondering why they had stopped.

"We should take care of your arm while we have the opportunity. The longer it remains untreated, the higher the risk of infection."

"…Fine, make it quick." He replied curtly as he eased out of his jacket. Cameron bent over and stuck her arm under the driver's seat before sitting back up with a first aid kit in hand. The two stared at each other for a few minutes. When John realized she wasn't going to move he asked. "What?"

"You were lying on glass earlier." She stated pointing to the multiple cuts in his shirt and scratches running up and down his arms. "You should remove the rest of your clothing so I can treat them as well."

John flushed at her blunt statement. Despite his feelings of anger and betrayal upon figuring out _what_ she was, part of him was still saw her as the cute, quirky girl who was _really_ good at gun games. "Yeah, that's not happening."

Cameron tilted her head, confused by his reaction. "You were lying on the ground. There is a high possibility of dirt and bacteria getting into some of your deeper cuts."

"Tell you what; if I start dying from infection you can say 'I told you so'."

"Letting you succumb to infection and death goes against my-"

"I'm not taking my clothes off, Cameron!" He interrupted forcefully. "You want to treat my arm? That's fine. But I don't need your help treating the rest of my body." Using his right arm he groped around his jacket until he found the pocket that held his cell phone. Pulling it out and dialing his mother's number he said one final sentence to his bodyguard before bringing the phone to his ear. "Now either treat my arm or keep driving. Time's not a luxury we can afford."

Cameron nodded and opened the kit pulling out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, some cotton swabs, a needle, and a spool of thread. She gently untied his makeshift tourniquet which had been soaked in blood, while John waited for his mom to answer her phone. As she pulled the cloth away she was greeted with sight of slightly swelled skin caked in dry blood with fresh blood seeping out. It seemed that his arm had yet to fully coagulate and stop bleeding. She carefully pulled the skin back to see how deep the wound went causing her patient to hiss in pain. The wound easily reopened and started leaking more blood onto her fingers.

Pulling back, she grabbed the first aid kit and pulled out some large gauze pads. The injury had been deeper than she expected. As she opened the bottle of peroxide, John's mother answered the phone.

"John?" she overheard coming from the receiver. Not once, did Cameron hesitate in her task as she poured a liberal amount of the medicinal cleaning agent over one of the gauze pads.

"Mom?" John asked as his body sinking with relief.

"John where are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you."

"Shut up for a second!" He snapped. As he continued talking Cameron moved forward and started cleaning the wound. "Listen to me they're ba-ow! God dammit that hurts!" He cursed while she pressed the reddening pad against the cut trying to get the chemical agent as deep as she could without causing further injury.

"John what's wrong? What's going on? Where are you?" Sarah's spoke frantically over the phone.

"Hold on, mom." He said before lowering the phone. Looking at Cameron he asked. "Will you cut it out!?"

"You told me to treat your arm quickly." She reminded, speaking quietly enough to not be overheard on the phone.

"Yeah, well can't it wait?" He asked in annoyance.

"My treatment reopened your wound and it is now bleeding heavily."

John grabbed her arm which was partially cleaning and partially stemming the blood flow. "Look, I won't pass out in the next five minutes so let me finish talking to my mom."

Cameron locked eyes with her charge, face blank as ever. "There is a good chance the person you're talking to isn't Sarah Connor."

"Dammit I know that! Now will you shut up and let me finish talking!?" He responded angrily before turning away and bringing the phone back to his ear. "Sorry bout that."

"Who's there, John?" Sarah asked.

"Don't worry about that! Listen, there's a terminator loose in Red Valley! He nearly killed me and he might try to come after you! You shouldn't have any trouble spotting him since he's pretty banged up."

"Thanks for the warning. Where are you?"

John's blood ran cold as he realized that was the third time she had asked for his location. Normally his mother wouldn't care where he was, so long as he was safe and well away from danger. Not wanting to make any assumptions he quickly formulated a plan to confirm if the person he was speaking to really was his mother.

"…I'm on my way to the house. I'm running low on ammo."

"I'll meet you there, understand?" Strike two.

"Yeah, I understand…Mom?"

"Yes, John?"

"I love you." '_Please, please don't say it.'_ He thought

"I love you too. I'll see you at the house." Strike three.

John hung up the phone and threw the truck door open. Getting out he stomped around outside. His breathing grew heaving and he ran his left hand through his hair, not noticing or caring about the blood that got in it. Suddenly he threw his cell phone as hard as he could.

"FUCK!" He yelled. Stomping back to the car he jumped back in and slammed the door shut. "That bastard has my mom! We have to save her!"

"Saving Sarah Connor is not-"

John instantly turned and glared at her. It wasn't the first time he had heard those words come from a terminator's mouth. "Don't you dare finish that sentence! My mother is one of the few things I hold dear on this planet! I don't care what your mission says! I'm going to save her and if you try to stop me…" Grabbing Justice off the dashboard he leveled it at Cameron's head before finishing. "…I'll kill you."

Tilting her head to the side as she was prone to do she stared into John's eyes. Not once did she look at the gun that was inches from her face. A part of him wondered if she was judging the validity of his declaration. A few more tense moments passed before Cameron spoke, "Understood."

Lowering his gun, he ordered, "Good, now finish treating my arm. We can come up with a plan while you work."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Cromartie crouched behind a recliner in the Connor house after knocking Sarah unconscious for the second time. He was growing impatient. His calculations after speaking with John Connor said he would beat his target to the house by three and a half to four minutes. His internal clock read eleven minutes had passed since his arrival. To be completely honest, the terminator had all the time in the world to wait for John Connor, but his waiting would be for naught should his target choose to use this chance to run away. Then there was the third party to take into consideration. Perhaps _they_ were responsible for the delay.

The front door creaked as it was cautiously opened. Cromartie felt his processor increase its input and output, the closest thing to anticipation for a machine. As the front door fully opened the terminator pressed his body lower behind the recliner and glanced at the person slowly entering the room. They wore a white hooded sweatshirt that appeared two sizes to large with the hood up, hiding their face.

"John?" He questioned using Sarah's voice.

The figure snapped to attention and looked around. "Mom?"

Voice match! It was John Connor! Sarah stirred in the recliner as she heard her son's voice, but Cromartie ignored her. She was of no further use to him. Shooting up from behind the recliner he raised the gun in his left hand and snapped off three shots. Three rounds; three hits. Sarah cried out her son's name as the figure dropped to the floor, landing on their side. The terminator marched over to the corpse to confirm his kill. Turning the body over his eyes widened as he saw the face of, not John Connor but Cameron Phillips. Hadn't he killed her at Red Valley High School?

"Neat trick…You like?" She asked in John's voice revealing to him what she was seconds before she planted both feet on his chest and kicked him away.

Sarah sprung into action the instant she realized the body on the floor didn't belong to her son. Rounding the recliner, she tore away one of the many false walls in the house hiding the guns she and John brought with them to New Mexico. Grabbing one of the loaded shotguns stashed away she pumped two rounds of buckshot into her son's would be killer. Cromartie jerked as the buckshot slammed into his back; the first shot hitting between what would have been his shoulder blades and the second catching the empty cavity of his lower back just right of his metal spine. It seemed the Connor's had a preference in which side to target.

Spinning around, Cromartie raised his gun and fired all the remaining rounds in his handgun. Sarah ducked down and let the recliner take the shots for her. Like John's book bag, she had sewn Kevlar into the back of the recliner. Dropping his gun, the terminator made to move towards his human opponent when Cameron intercepted him. Realizing Cromartie was no longer firing at her; Sarah stood up and prepared to pump more buckshot into him. Her line of fire was blocked however by the smaller terminator who had removed her white sweatshirt while Cromartie had been distracted. Despite knowing they were both machines, Sarah had a strict "No shooting allies" policy. Such actions tended to piss people off and made them feel disinclined to save your ass in the future.

Cromartie was quickly growing annoyed with his female counterpart. She was proving to be a real nuisance. Being a machine like him, he knew she would be more difficult to terminate than Sarah Connor. Especially with his right arm still damaged. Grabbing her by the throat, he used his superior size and power to slam her against the wall before using all the power his mechanics could muster to throw her across the room. Cameron body hit the door leading to John's room with enough force to shatter it and part of the wall. Before she could move to get up Cromartie was upon her, straddling her chest and pinning her arms with his legs whilst punching her repeatedly with his good arm. The shotgun rounds were only an annoyance and could be shrugged off.

Sarah moved away from her protective corner to get a better shot at the male terminator when a crashing sound from behind her caused her to pivot and raise her shotgun at whoever was on her six. Milliseconds from pulling the trigger she locked eyes with her son who had his own gun raised and ready to fire. Both Connors lowered their weapons and jogged up to meet each other half way. Gripping her son's arm, she heatedly said, "Next time you do what you're trained to do! You run!"

John ripped free of her grip and replied in the same heated tone, "I'll run when I only have myself to trust! Where's Cameron?"

"Who?"

"The girl!" He frustratingly answered. The sound of flesh smacking flesh and the banging of metal against metal drew his attention to his room where Cromartie was still punching Cameron. Before Sarah could stop him, John raised his gun and called out. "This is John Connor speaking!"

Cromartie's reaction was instantaneous as his scanners matched the voice pattern of his target for the second time. Turning to face the speaker he identified him seconds before a powerful blow hit his forehead and shot his head back with enough force to snap a human's neck. He was growing tired of locating his target and being shot right after confirming his identity.

The force of the blow stunned Cromartie. His visual sensors started seeing static and his motor systems reduced their power to compensate for the damages coursing through his internal systems. The two females responsible for John's safety capitalized on the moment. Sarah grabbed her son's arm and pulled him out of the house, intent on putting as much distance between them and the machines as she could.

Cameron freed her arms and rolled Cromartie off her slamming him through the floor and into the basement. Straddling the male terminator like he had done to her earlier, she grabbed an overhanging electrical wire that had snapped during the fall and jabbed its sparking end into his neck. Her opponent's body jerked and twitched with electricity causing his systems to shut down and his body to go slack. Standing up she heard the sound of a car engine start and ran out of the basement.

Taking the stairs three at a time she rushed through the living room and out the still open front door. Not hesitating for a second she ran towards the street just in time to see her truck peeling out of the driveway. Crouching low, she put all her spare energy into her legs and jumped. Her height and distance put every Olympic jumper to shame as she sailed through the air and landed in the bed of the vehicle, startling the two human passengers. John quickly opened the passenger door and let her into the cabin. As she climbed in and shut the door, Sarah questioned. "Did you take care of him?"

"One-hundred twenty seconds till the system reboots." She explained. Feeling it would be best to elucidate her mission promptly she continued. "I was sent her to protect Jo-"

"No! Not now...Not yet!" Sarah interrupted, too much had happened in such a short time and she needed time to think.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Cromartie's eyes snapped open precisely two minutes after shutting down. He had failed to terminate John Connor. His chances of success dropped considerably now that he lost the element of surprise. Even worse, tracking them down would become all the more difficult. Getting up he left the house, local law enforcement would come soon. Not all hope was lost however; SKYNET gave him a possible location that the Connors were sure to visit. With them aware that Judgment day wasn't stopped they would seek answers. And the best place to find answers would be at the Dyson residence.

He had underestimated John Connor once and he would not make the same mistake again. Ever since his creation, Cromartie wondered from time to time how such a fragile creature like John Connor could ever be considered a threat. Today he got his answer. John Connor was intelligent, decisive, calculating, and most of all lucky. Yes, Cromartie like SKYNET was forced to acknowledge the existence of luck in the face of John Connor. No human could defy the odds as much as he did and survive. Many times the machines would wonder why their creator wasted so many resources trying to kill one human and again Cromartie came to the same answer as his creator. Having acknowledged the existence of luck as a variable, one also had to acknowledge another thing; that one day that luck would run out. SKYNET wanted to find that day. If it was in the present or the future then odds were it would come across it. But if it were in the past, then it had missed its chance and that could not be tolerated!

The possibility of it being in the past led to the creation of the time machine. Something it made sure had been done in secret. With such a device it would have an edge over the humans. Sadly its latest weapon became a double-edged sword. A fact it learned the hard way when the humans had gained control of the device and used it to counter almost every plan SKYNET had set into motion. Even worse, after they used the machine, they destroyed it! However, this led the machine leader to believe it was on the right track and so it tried again. It was this time machine that took Cromartie back to 1999, that enabled him to locate, John Connor to a school in Red Valley, New Mexico, and it was this time machine that led him to believe he would succeed where his master had failed. But no, he too failed in killing his target. As the humans would say, John Connor had the devil's luck.

If he was to succeed, he would need to be better prepared. John Connor was not a target of opportunity like Cromartie had first thought. He wouldn't be able to simply walk in, pull a gun out of his leg, terminate him, and walk out. Had things been that easy he would have succeeded at the High School. There was also the terminator protector he had to consider.

Walking up to the last car in the driveway he broke open the driver side window and unlocked the door before getting in. Hotwiring the car he made for the Ferguson residence where he had left a majority of his supplies upon his arrival in Red Valley. It would have everything he needed to remove the bullets and restore mobility to his arm. It would also have what few weapons he had brought with him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Night had set in when Sarah chose to stop, parking the truck in an abandoned warehouse. The doors opened and the three piled out. John stretched and heard a series of cracks run throughout his body. Walking around the truck he saw Cameron getting a tool kit out of the truck bed while his mother moved some empty barrels and wooden crates around. By the time she had finished she had created a makeshift circle with an open barrel in the center.

"Hey, iron maiden," Sarah called out to Cameron whilst her son gave her a dirty look. Said terminator stopped pulling various tools out and glanced at her. "Break this crate. We'll need the wood for a fire."

To emphasize her point she kicked the empty crate by her feet. Cameron walked over and ripped each board of the crate off with ease before snapping them like twigs. When she was finished, the wood sat on the floor in organized piles of six high.

"Got anything to light it?" His mother asked. Cameron walked back to the truck and returned with a coffee can and road flare. Grabbing one of the boards from the pile, she popped the lid off and poured a small amount of white powder on the board's end.

"What is that?" John questioned. As he watched Cameron grab the flare and light it.

"Shield your eyes." She ordered before applying the flare to the powder and producing a bright flame. Grabbing the non burning end of the board she tossed it into the barrel and let the flames do their job. Looking back at John, she answered his earlier question. "Thermite. It's the only thing that can completely destroy a terminator's endoskeleton."

'_She obviously hasn't tossed a T-1000 into a pool of molten steel and watched what happens.' _John thought as he regarded his metal sentinel.

Sarah walked up and laid a hand on John's shoulder, gently pulling him off to the side. "…Are you ok?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" John asked. His mother glanced at his left arm, which had been bandaged. She had seen it in the car, but since it didn't seem to be bleeding she kept quiet. John pulled back the bandages to show her the injury knowing she would want to check its condition with her own eyes. Sarah gently rubbed a finger over the stitches to check how well they had been applied.

"Did she do this?"

"Yeah, right before we came to the house."

Sarah nodded. "She did a good job. Anything else?"

"Few scrapes and bruises. Nothing life threatening."

"Alright…you best get some sleep. We won't stay here long."

John shook his head. "Can't. Too much on my mind. Plus I need to take care of Justice."

His eyes widened as he realized what he said. His mother gave him a confused stare before asking. "Justice?"

Sighing he clarified. "I meant my gun."

Sarah gave her son a hard look. "Your gun is a tool, John! It doesn't need a name!"

"Yeah, yeah." He replied in annoyance. "Look can we skip the lecture? It's just easier to call it that than Colt Anaconda."

His mother continued to gaze long and hard at him before relenting. "Just keep that in mind."

"Yeah, ok." He said. "Hey Cameron, do you have-HOLY SHIT!"

John, who had been in the process of turning to face Cameron quickly turned back around after seeing that she had removed her top giving him an eye-full. Cameron for her part looked at him with a questioning gaze. Sarah put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Despite their situation, a part of her felt pleased that her son still acted like the fifteen year old boy he was.

"Is something wrong?" Cameron asked looking to Sarah for an explanation.

Before she could respond, John spoke. "Why the hell do you have your shirt off!?"

"I need to remove the bullets from my combat chassis. Should my synthetic skin heal over them, it would prove most problematic."

"Whatever." He said, not really understanding or caring. "Do you have a cleaning kit I can use? I want to take care of my gun while we have the time."

The soft sound of Cameron's footfalls told him that she did indeed have a kit.

"Bring me whatever maps you have as well." Sarah ordered.

The cyborg returned a moment later and was about to walk into John's line of sight when his mother intervened. He didn't know if he appreciated that or not. Taking the kit he walked a ways off, but made sure to stay in sight. He knew his mother would panic if he didn't. Sitting down near a stack of crates he set his gun down and prepared his work space. Sarah, with maps in hand sat down not much further and began to analyze the maps; planning their next destination and calculating drive time and possible safe zones. Cameron lowered the door to the truck bed and propped herself on it using the light from the fire to help her remove the bullets.

The three sat in silence for some time. While they appeared to be completely focused on their tasks they never let the lull of safety deaden their sense of surrounding. While John never looked up from his cleaning, a twitching of his ears showed he was always listening. While Sarah's head never moved her eyes would periodically look up and scan the area stopping once on the terminator and once on her son. For Cameron…well being a super advanced computer gave her a better feel of her surroundings that neither human could hope to match. Pulling the final round out her body, she looked it over before setting it down and meeting Sarah's gaze.

"…You might want to put those back in the holster." She suggested.

"Oh!" Cameron replied as her chip processed the meaning behind her statement. Grabbing her bra she quickly put it back on. John, for his part was glad his back was facing the two females as he couldn't keep a smile off is face.

"We should be good here another few hours." Sarah said as she approached the younger looking female. "Hit the border at lunch time."

'_Running away again…'_ John thought in annoyance. He felt his life was composed of too much running and not enough fighting.

"What year are you from?" He heard his mother question.

"2027." Cameron replied as she walked around Sarah towards the side of the truck where her blouse rested.

"How long have you been searching for us?"

"Seventy three days."

"…And the war?"

John perked up, this information he considered critical.

"The SKYNET Missile Defense System goes online April 19, 2011. Declares war on mankind and triggers a nuclear apocalypse two days later."

_'Twelve_ _years…we didn't stop it! We delayed it!'_ He thought. Suddenly a horrifying realization came to him. It made his body tense and his blood run cold. '_We made it worse! That's twelve years worth of technological advancements we just handed over to SKYNET!'_

"But, Miles Dyson…" Sarah said in disbelief.

"Someone else builds SKYNET." Cameron stated.

'_That's a given, to think one man would be solely responsible for the creation of a program is naive.' _John added. His mother having a limited knowledge of computers kept her from drawing the same conclusion.

"Who?"

"…I don't know."

'_Odd.'_

"You don't know who builds the computer that blows up the world!?" Sarah asked incredulously.

"I wasn't sent here for that."

"No, you were sent here to keep my son from being assassinated!" If John didn't know any better, he'd have thought his mother was accusing Cameron of failing her duty because she didn't know who built the machine that wanted him dead.

"Your fiancé went to the police. You should have changed your alias." The cyborg deadpanned. Her monotone voice however made it hard to figure out if she was insulting Sarah or just stating a fact. John felt it was the former and thought she had the better argument.

"Go to Hell!" His mother said with hatred.

Feeling now would be a good time to intervene he called out. "Don't take your anger out on her for _our_ mistakes."

He made certain to emphasize "our" to let his mother know it was stupid on their part and to let Cameron know his mother wasn't solely responsible.

The machine made her way over to her charge. As she walked, she spoke. "He'd have found you anyway. They always do."

Sarah's gaze bore into the back of her son's head, but it didn't come close to matching the glare she gave his cybernetic protector. "I'm going to get some sleep. Don't be up all night!"

John said nothing, but gave a grunt of acknowledgement. As she walked back to the truck, he returned to cleaning his gun. He was currently running a steel brush through the barrel while Cameron stood behind him and watched over his shoulder. He did his best to ignore her, but after a few minutes his unease grew too much for him to bear.

"Would you sit down already!? You're making me uncomfortable!" He snapped.

Cameron said nothing, but she did grab a crate and sat down next to him. John looked at their close proximity and scooted over to put a few more inches between them. Looking at him curiously she commented, "You weren't uncomfortable with me last night."

"That was before I found out everything I knew about you was a lie." He harshly explained.

"…Yesterday, you apologized for lying to me…So I should apologize for lying to you." Cameron said almost delicately. At least that's what John would have called it if her voice held any emotion.

'_That's a first.'_ He thought. '_A machine apologizing and not because of some error.'_

Stopping the ministrations to his gun, he replied. "It's…okay. It's just part of your programming." He hesitated for a moment before adding. "It's not like you can be held completely responsible either. I knew there was something wrong when I first met you. I just didn't want to believe it."

Cameron said nothing, opting to listen.

"I was so desperate for a normal life I was willing to forego any and every warning sign just to attempt living like everyone else." Quietly he muttered to himself. "I'm such an idiot."

"In the future you have many friends." She said trying to comfort the distressed boy.

John glanced at her then looked over towards the truck where his mother was sleeping. Looking back at her, he ordered. "Close your eyes."

Cameron stared at him in confusion before doing as he said. Her auditory sensors picked up the sound of John setting his gun down and moving. She heard him coming closer to her before she felt something warm and slightly moist press against her lips. Her eyes shot open only to see John moving back to his seat.

"…John?" She asked.

"Yeah?"

"You kissed me."

"I did." He confirmed as he pulled the steel brush from the barrel and checked to see if it was clear.

"Why?"

As he began to reassemble the gun he answered. "I needed to say good-bye."

His answer further confused her. She wasn't going anywhere, so why say good-bye? She asked as much.

"Not to you." He answered. "To the girl I thought you were. She died this morning and I never got the chance to mourn her."

Cameron didn't really understand what he meant. So she just wrote it off as a human thing. "Thank you for explaining."

John threw the three empty shell casings over his shoulder and began putting his remaining bullets into the gun. Putting a finger on the side of the cylinder, he gave it a spin to make sure it didn't catch; flicking his wrist, he snapped it in place. Raising the gun to eye level and checking the sights, he said. "There's no need to thank me."

Cameron was certain that John knew she didn't understand. For his part, John was a torrent of emotions. He really had meant for that kiss to be the end of his attachment to Cameron Phillips, but despite that he felt a little sliver still tied to her. For the second time in John's short life, he was growing attached to a machine. But somehow, this time, he felt the outcome would be much worse.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Morning came faster than John had expected. By the time he was getting ready to go to sleep, his mother was waking up. He was hoping to have gotten at least a wink of sleep before the coming confrontation with her. His exhausted state would make him more irritable and likely to say and do things that wouldn't help his sense of maturity. His mother climbed out of the truck cabin and stretched before walking around their little campsite to make sure they had everything they needed and didn't leave any clues that could trace back to them. One look at her son told Sarah everything.

"I told you to get some rest." She reprimanded as she poured some water into the barrel that held their fire the night before.

"I had too much on my mind." He replied as he walked up beside her. Cameron was off doing some last minute tune-ups to the truck.

"Fine," Sarah said in annoyance. "You can sleep while we drive to the border."

She took a few steps towards the truck but her son didn't follow. Turning around she saw him standing with his hands in his pocket.

"I won't be going." He stated.

"What do you mean you won't be going?" She asked in confusion.

"Just that. I won't be going with you to the border."

"John we don't have time for your games."

"I know, that's why I'm not playing." He replied. "Look we've been running for more than a decade! Can't you see we're just running in circles!?"

"And what would you suggest? Stand and fight? You know how important you are, John! We can't risk your life!" Sarah argued.

"Why not!?" He countered. "What good is my life if the only thing I know is running away!?"

"And what good is your life if you die?" Sarah countered. "Say you do fight…who do you fight? What do you fight? Face it, John! You don't have the information necessary for stopping SKYNET!"

"Even if I can't stop SKYNET, I can do something! Stockpile weapons…or takeout anything SKYNET may use…Anything's better than nothing!"

"You know nothing of the future, John. You don't know what the Resistance would need or what could hinder SKYNET! All your efforts would be in vain." She argued; the problem with her argument however was that it worked both ways.

"You can't say if it's in vain or not because you don't know either! And for the record I may know nothing about the future, but I know someone who does!" He said glancing over at Cameron who was walking up to see what was going on.

"She doesn't know who builds it!"

"That doesn't mean she can't tell us what helps it! Or what humanity needs to fight it!" He shot back.

Sarah glared at her son. While she would never openly admit it, on some level it made sense. Cromartie would find them again of that there was no doubt. So what would running really do? Not much, the more she thought it over. There were still some fallacies in John's plan, but his motives were relatively sound.

"I'm going to do this whether you approve or not." He said taking a firm stance in the path he'd chosen.

Sarah frowned at his tone, the parent in her not liking his lack of respect. Grabbing her son's collar and pulling him close she said. "Alright you win, but if you think your half-baked plan will get you anywhere, think again! It seems I'll need to teach you more about information gathering!"

With those words she stalked off to the driver side of the truck, her stiff movements a clear sign that she did not fully support this course of action. John looked over at the third member of their party. Cameron had a small smile and nodded head to show she supported his plan. She hadn't liked the idea of running for the next twelve years either.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The trip from southern New Mexico towards California was a long one, causing the trio to stop at a gas station out in the middle of the desert. It would be the only stop they could make before braving the endless miles of highway that cut through the barren landscape. Sarah was currently inside the building paying for their gas and getting a few things for the road ahead. John was standing outside the truck stretching his legs and snacking on some chips while Cameron filled up the tank of their vehicle. As the teenage boy bit into another chip he felt curiosity seep in.

"Hey," He said. "How were you capable of eating? I mean it's not like you need it to survive. Does it help you in someway?"

"Help?" She questioned.

"Yeah like providing your skin with nutrients, for example."

"No." She answered. "It only serves as a tool to aid me while infiltrating. My skin is completely self-sufficient."

"Yeah about that. Last night you said your skin would grow over your injuries. How is that possible? I mean the T-800 I met four years ago couldn't do that."

"My skin is the latest version that SKYNET equips its terminators with. It is similar to mold as its organic, quick to spread, and easy to repair."

John mused on this. "So basically you could lose all the skin on your body, save for a finger and it would eventually grow back?"

"Yes, but such extensive damage would require no less than 3 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days to recover."

"Are there more terminators with skin like yours?"

"Unknown." She stated. "But it is unlikely. The process of creating the skin is complex and requires a specific blood type. After it has been created, keeping it usable over a long period of time becomes nearly impossible as it starts to coagulate in two and a half days. Also terminators that enter the compound bring in contaminants which will ruin it."

John gave a little sound of amusement. "You really are one of a kind, aren't you?"

Reaching over and plucking a chip from the bag in John's hand she replied, "I am" before putting it in her mouth.

Sarah watched the exchange from the entrance to convenience store. A sense of dread filled her gut. John's comfortable demeanor around the robotic girl hinted that he was growing attached. She would have been fine with this had the terminator in question been a replica of the T-800 from four years ago, but it wasn't. This machine wasn't something he could look at and see as a father figure. No, this was a machine that he could look at as a possible love interest.

She wasn't just a pretty face. She was virtually indestructible. But the worst part was that she would always be around. John wouldn't have to worry about waking up the next day and having to leave her behind. Nor did he have to worry about her growing attached to another boy. She was completely devoted to him and him alone. Everything that made the T-800 a perfect father figure made Cameron the perfect girlfriend. A wave of nausea hit her with the force of an unstoppable train. Cameron wasn't real, but the possibility of John falling for her was…

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was late at night at the Dyson residence. Little Danny Dyson now eleven years old walked down the hall with a portable game system in hand. Despite the death of his father four years prior, he acted exactly as all other kids his age did; a holy terror on a hormone high. As he entered the living room the doorbell rang.

"Mom, pizza's here." He called out, even though he was only ten feet away from the front door. The doorbell rang for a second time. "Mom!"

When she failed to respond he rolled his eyes in annoyance. That woman was getting lazier everyday! Opening the front door he saw three people, two of which he had hoped to never see again.

"…Mom?" Danny said with fear as his mother neared the front door.

"You!?" Tarissa Dyson said in a mixture of anger and disbelief.

"We need to talk." Sarah stated.

"Danny, go to your room." She ordered, before addressing Sarah. "How dare you show yourself around here! Get out!"

"It's important!" Sarah pressed.

The Dyson matriarch ignored her and stalked off to the kitchen, intent on activating the security system and alerting the police. The Connor matriarch followed after her and grabbed her wrist before the call could be made.

"Listen to me!" She demanded. "I know what they told you, but I didn't kill Miles! I would never kill Miles!"

Tarissa's eyes watered at the memory of her husband who had been taken away from her. Sobbing slightly she cried, "Why are you here?"

"We're back." The young girl Tarissa had seen with the Connors spoke. Looking over at the teenager, she saw a flash of blue come from behind the girl's brown eyes. The horrifying revelation set in causing her legs to buckle and give out. Sarah caught the troubled woman and led her to the living room to sit.

"You said there would be no more robots." She mumbled as she shook her head, the memory of the large Austrian man cutting the skin off his arm to reveal the same metal robotic hand that had been the source of her husband's pride and ultimately his death flashed through her mind.

Sarah glanced over at her son and his protector, signaling for them to leave the room. When they left she turned back to the distressed widow. "We thought so too. Everything we fought to stop, still exists. Miles work at Cyberdyne is the only real link we have is there anyone that could rebuild it or aid in its creation?"

"No, it's all gone. You destroyed it." She answered. "You and Miles destroyed…_you_ destroyed _everything_."

Sarah easily heard the hidden meaning behind her answer. She didn't know how to respond, because truth be told Sarah blamed herself as much as Tarissa blamed her for the death of Miles Dyson.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Cameron approached the window showing the front drive of the house. The blinds were lowered but still allowed room for people to see through. Peeking through them, she saw a figure carrying an automatic rifle up the driveway. John walked up behind her and peered over her shoulder. Cameron made no attempt to move him away as a majority of his body was shielded by hers. Part of her processor wondered if he did that intentionally.

"Is that who I think it is?" He asked, answering her query.

"It's Cromartie."

"Then that would be a yes." He replied, drawing his gun. "I had hoped the bullet to his head would have finished him since it did a number to his shoulder."

"Aside from the front and back of our torso, the head is the densest part of our endoskeleton. They have to be since they shield our most critical systems." She explained.

"Well, no time to dwell on the past. Go tell mom." He ordered

Moving away from the window, John watched her leave the room. Popping out the cylinder he double checked that his gun was ready to fire his last three rounds consecutively before flicking it shut again. Three bullets down, three to go. The two women in his life returned a moment later.

"We're leaving." He heard his mother say.

"We don't have a car. He'd intercept us before we made it to the truck." He stated as he watched the terminator come closer to the house. His mother held up her hand to show a set of keys that didn't belong to the truck. Not bothering to question how she got them, he followed them to the garage.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Cromartie was forty feet from the front door. As he had made his way up the driveway he saw the same truck that had hit him in New Mexico near the road. SKYNET's theory of the Connors going to the Dyson residence had been accurate. Humans were so predictable at times. It was a good thing he had taken the time to repair a lot of the more crippling damage. Most of his smaller injuries still showed including the giant dents in his forehead and chest. But the hole in his shoulder no longer showed torn, fragmented metal, but a dull edge from when he had melted the metal after restoring mobility to his arm.

As he passed the garage he heard the start of an engine. Looking at the garage door, the terminator's eye widened as the wooden door shattered and the back of a Jeep came speeding at him and hitting him hard, sending him sailing backwards. Sarah quickly slammed the car into drive and raced away from the hostile machine. Cromartie was quick to recover and held down the trigger of his assault rifle emptying the entire clip into the back of the retreating vehicle.

John, who was sitting in the back seat, had ducked down long before the terminator ever started firing. The back window shattered and a few of the bullets entered the cabin. The windshield became decorated with cracks as three rounds hit it. One round found Sarah's right shoulder and pierced through the muscle and skin, narrowly missing the bone. Hearing his mother cry out in pain caused John to look up from the floor and see her bleeding shoulder. For the second time since he first met him, Cromartie managed to hurt one of the people he cared for. Grabbing his gun, he sat up, turned, and braced his body against the seat before taking aim at the machine.

The terminator gave chase after the vehicle the second his gun was empty. Tossing the gun away he put his whole body into running and increased the power output to his legs. Jeeps were powerful trucks, but they were not quick to accelerate. Each time his foot hit the ground John counted.

'_One, two, one, two.'_

The right foot hit the ground.

'_One.'_

The left foot hit the ground.

'_Two…'_

'_...One, two, one, two."_

Cameron looked at her charge. "Don't waste your ammunition. You only have a thirteen point six percent chance of succeeding."

Regardless of his concentration, John couldn't help but respond. "What have I told you about me and the odds?"

Sarah felt a smile spread across her face despite the pain she was in. She would be the first to mention anything about John's ability to screw the odds. Cameron looked at the back of her son's head while raising the keychain for the truck, her hand resting lightly on top of the lock button as Cromartie neared the side of their old vehicle. Looking at the speeding terminator, she answered John's question. "That you have a tendency to ignore them?"

'_One, two, one, two, one…'_

-BANG-

'…_Two.'_ He finished as he pulled the trigger. The bullet sailed through the air and hit Cromartie's left leg while his right one was in the air. The force of the round took out the machine's balance causing him to stagger right as he pulled along side of the pick-up. Cameron pressed the lock button and the truck exploded sending the terminator careening off to the right. Sarah floored the accelerated capitalizing on the opportunity the two had provided.

Cromartie sat up from where he had landed, most of the skin on his face either burnt off or badly butchered. His eyes were bloodshot and most of the rest of his body matched his face. Looking at his leg he saw the increasingly familiar half-dollar sized hole that he had come to associate with John Connor's gun. A diagnostic of the damage showed his leg would only be capable of operating at seventy five percent capacity. He wouldn't be able to run at full speed in his current state.

Getting up he stalked over to the vehicle he had commandeered at the Connor house. He had failed yet again, though this time the circumstances were understandable. He had officially lost his best chances at taking out John Connor quickly. Now he would have to wait…

XxXxXxXxXxX

The Jeep sped into the parking lot of a gas station. John, who was now missing both sleeves of his undershirt, held the fabric tightly against his mother's bleeding shoulder. His hands stained red. Sarah looked over at him.

"Bandages, rubbing alcohol." She stated.

John nodded and jumped out of the car. Before he closed the door he said. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

As he shut the door, his mother drove the car around the building and towards the mechanics' garage in the back. He felt a twinge of annoyance at how fast she drove off.

"That would constitute doing something stupid, mom." He said to no one as he waltzed into the store with his hands in his pocket to hide the blood. He took his time as he made his way to the bathroom in the back. If his mother didn't think he had figured out her plan, then she gave him too little credit.

As they approached the door to the mechanics garage Cameron hopped out and headed over to the padlock. Grabbing it she tore the metal lock of like it was made of paper before raising the door high enough to let Sarah pull the car in. Holding her son's makeshift bandage to her shoulder she put the vehicle in park and ordered the female terminator to grab a first aid and sewing kit that she had taken from the Dyson house.

Pushing everything off one of the metal workbenches she looked at Cameron and said, "Get it done before he gets back."

"I'll get some ice. It'll numb you, slow the blood loss."

"Needle and thread will slow the blood loss." Sarah replied, stopping the machine from leaving. "Do it now!"

Grabbing hold of Sarah, Cameron helped her up onto the workbench so she could lie down. Grabbing the first aid kit she pulled out a small disinfectant cloth before moving over to the sewing kit and threading one of the needles it offered. Tearing open the shirt, the terminator set to work. First by cleaning the area and wiping away the excess blood, then by stitching the bullet wound in her back. As Cameron worked, Sarah opened up to the machine needing to get some things off her chest. "Am I doing the right thing? Helping John go on the offensive. For most of his life, all we have done is run."

"Your perceptions of the future are different." Cameron responded. "When you were first targeted you were eighteen years old. You knew what a normal life was before you learned to be a soldier. Ever since your first encounter all you've known is to run. John doesn't know a normal life and his first encounter with machines involved combat and making preemptive strikes. You both are merely acting in ways that best suite your experience."

"But how can I condone this? What kind of mother supports her child's plan when it involves risking their life?"

"That is a natural instinct. A mother for the most part will always do whatever is possible to protect their young. Also, you knew John would have followed this path regardless of your thoughts or feelings. At least this way you can continue to watch over him."

Sarah said nothing as she turned over to allow the machine to stitch the exit wound. While she could find little comfort in its words, she had to admit there accuracy. John was a soldier through and through. It was the only life he knew and Sarah felt deeply ashamed of that. He was how he was mostly due to her and her choices. Every decision he made, every action he took. All of it could be traced back to her in some way. Perhaps this was the penance she was to serve for failing as a mother.

Cameron finished and moved to let Sarah sit up. As she made to get off the workbench the garage door opened high enough for John to quickly duck under and shut. His hands were no longer bloodied and he carried a small bag filled with food, water, and his mother requested supplies.

"You certainly took your time." Sarah commented.

Walking up to her, he inspected the stitches before setting his bag down to grab the bandages and rubbing alcohol. "You don't honestly believe I wouldn't realize your plan did you? Remember who was first to be stitched up by Dr. Phillips over there?"

Sarah smiled at her son; he really was too smart for his own good. "So what did you get?"

"Chips and water. The midnight snack of champions."

Frowning, she responded. "I forgot how hard it is to get a decent meal when you're running for your life."

"With the way you cook it's hard to get a decent meal even when your not." He replied earning a smack.

The two humans ate their meals in silence while Cameron would occasionally take sips from a water bottle John had picked up for her. When the terminator said she didn't need food he had replied "Just because you are a machine, doesn't mean you should always act like one."

Sarah let out a long yawn as a wave of lightheadedness washed over her. She may not have lost a critical amount of blood, but she needed to rest. Walking to the Jeep she climbed in the driver's side and laid the seat down. Like the night before she ordered her son to not stay up all night. Only this time she added the threat of knocking him unconscious if he failed to listen to her. Ten minutes later her breathing evened out and she entered REM. John ran his fingers through his hair. There only possible lead had been a bust.

"What do we do now?" He asked aloud not expecting an answer.

"Fight SKYNET." Cameron answered.

"It's not that easy." He replied. "Miles Dyson's research and Cyberdyne were really the only possible lead we had. Now that, that's been proven fruitless were stuck. Mom was right, there's no point taking any action since we don't know if it will help or not. We still have you as a resource, but most of the information you could provide would prove more useful the closer we get to Judgment day."

Cameron didn't respond. She had seen John talk like this in the future. Whenever he was faced with a problem he couldn't solve he would talk aloud hoping to hear an answer that may have eluded him in his mind. It also made it possible for others to comment on and share their own ideas.

"…Judgment day isn't for another twelve years and it will be at least six or seven years before we could find anything even remotely linked to SKYNET." Letting out a sigh he finished his thoughts with. "If only we had a time machine like the one you used."

Cameron's head snapped up at his last sentence. "John?" She said drawing the teenager's attention. "I may have the solution to your problem."

His eyes widened in shock before hardening into the cold, calculating, determined stare of General John Connor. "Tell me everything."

XxXxXxXxX

The next morning the first thing Sarah Connor saw when she awoke was the face of her son. Regarding him with suspicion she said, "You better have gotten some sleep."

"I did. Ask Cameron if you want." He defended. "…How's the arm?"

"Better."

"Good, we have a long day ahead of us." He said as he stood up.

"Why? What's going on?"

Smiling cryptically at his mother he vaguely responded with, "We're making the first move."

The morning was a blur of activity as John took over driving. Neither he nor his terminator protector showed a willingness to divulge any details. Their first stop had been at an IHOP for the groups' first real meal in nearly two days. This time Cameron ordered a light meal and ate with them; a byproduct of John's lesson the night before. Their next stop was a post office where John quickly ran in carrying a small heavy cardboard box. Coming back to the Jeep he switched seats with his robotic protector who had been riding shotgun.

Cameron drove to the outskirts of Los Angelus to a bank and parked the vehicle. Sarah looked around in confusion. As the two younger looking members of their group got out, she asked. "What are we doing here?"

"I told you this morning," John said. "We're making the first move."

"Enough bullshit, John! What's going on?" She demanded.

Looking his mother he said, "Would you just trust me? Cameron and I came up with a plan so just have some faith in us, okay?"

Sarah stopped her protests but her gaze didn't soften any. She hated not knowing what was going on. Such variables got people killed. Considering her son was one of those people, her concerns were valid. As they entered the bank Cameron took the lead. Walking up behind an elderly security guard, she grabbed his sidearm and pushed him to the floor.

"Everyone get on the floor." She ordered loudly while pointing the gun in their direction. Almost as an afterthought, she added. "Please."

People screamed in fear, but quickly complied. One of the bank clerks tripped a silent alarm as she got on the floor. Cameron walked up to one of the tellers and asked for the keys to the safety deposit boxes. When the clerk hesitated, she cocked the gun. From there, the rest of their bank robbing experience went smoothly. The same clerk Cameron had threatened guided the trio to the vault. As they approached it, the terminator turned to her companions and told them to get in. Following behind them, she turned to address the clerk. "Lock us in, then back away from the door. I'll know if you don't."

The clerk quickly complied with the demand. After locking them in she ran back to the lobby telling everyone to evacuate while the thieves were trapped. Meanwhile inside the vault Cameron scanned the many safety deposit boxes looking for a specific one in her databank. Finding the right one, she punched the door in and pulled out more keys to the other deposit boxes. Handing some to both John and Sarah, she ordered them to get the items stored within and lay them carefully on the table.

XxXxXxXxXxX

At the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Los Angelus branch Agent James Ellison walked down a hallway with a folder in hand. After the events at Red Valley, New Mexico he felt it best to write a report before following anymore leads that may end up being nothing but a wild goose chase. As he passed by one of the many rooms, a colleague of who saw him quickly called out. "James come here you're gonna want to see this."

James quickly checked his watch before following his fellow agent into the room. As he entered he looked at the security feed to see none other than Sarah Connor, John Connor, and an unknown female cohort. As he stared at the screen he felt confused. Why would the Connors rob a bank? The FBI already had enough knowledge on them to know any funds they may ever need could be hacked out from an ATM. Their behavior just didn't match up with their profile. Add that to the witness testimonies in Red Valley and James Ellison found himself questioning everything he thought he knew about the Connors.

The agent that called him in explained the situation. "Alarm tripped seven minutes ago. You know them?"

As James continued staring at the screen he replied quietly. "Less and less, all the time."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Opening the final safety deposit box, Cameron reached in and pulled out a clear, tiny cylinder object with what looked like bubbles of air inside. Despite knowing what the terminator was constructing, John couldn't help but ask. "What is that?"

Fitting the small object into a power generator she switched it on and the clear fluid inside heated up instantly, turning yellow. "An isotope solution constructed by an engineer you sent back. He was tasked with creating this vault and filling it with both the supplies to construct a makeshift plasma rifle and an operable time-machine."

"Time-machine?" Sarah repeated. Her eyes darted back and forth as she put the pieces together. "You're jumping to the future!?"

Not bothering to look at his mother, John continued watching Cameron construct the incredibly advanced weapon. Knowing she would want an answer he threw out. "It was either that or waiting seven years and I'm not that patient. Especially when that wait is optional."

"We don't know who builds it!" She argued.

Turning to face his mother with a harsh glare he responded. "We don't need to! Something as big as SKYNET will get plenty of media coverage! It's an automated defense system for Christ's sake!"

There were many pitfalls in his reasoning, but before she could respond a harsh pounding against the vault door drew their attention. John's eyes became alit like a kid who got their Christmas presents early.

"Bastard's right on time." He said quietly to himself.

"Who?" Sarah asked, mind still reeling at her son's revelation. Cameron walked up with the completed rifle and handed it to her.

"Cromartie." She answered. "We knew he'd come when the employees triggered the alarm."

"Didn't you even wonder why we're building a gun when our intention is to go to the future? We're going to take out two birds with one stone." John said showing the tactician Kyle Reese had told her of.

From her spot next to a larger deposit box, Cameron instructed. "Wait for the isotope to turn red before firing. It'll backfire if you don't."

A crashing from the door revealed a hand holding a gun. Sarah quickly moved behind a corner of the vault while John took shelter behind Cameron as Cromartie fired blindly into the vault.

"Crazy son of a bitch." John muttered as the terminator withdrew its arm. A light from beside him drew his gaze and he watched as a retinal scanner ran over his protector's eyes. The scan, once completed caused many of the deposit boxes surrounding the scanner to pop open. Sarah moved to the center of the vault and aimed the plasma rifle directly at the door, waiting for the chance to fire.

As Cameron finished typing in the information the vault took on a blue hue and the air started to shimmer as the time machine powered up. Groans and screeches came from the door as Cromartie peeled it off its sealed frame. Sarah looked down at the yellow liquid and saw red starting to bleed into it.

"Power is at One-hundred percent." Cameron stated as her hand rested on the button that would start up the process of traveling forward through time.

As the isotope was mostly red Sarah ordered, "Hit it."

Cameron did so and marched up to the center of the vault John followed behind her and moved to the right, Sarah behind her to the left. Cromartie finished ripping the vault door off and charged into the vault, his target was trapped! A quick glance at the isotope told Sarah everything she needed to know. Stepping up alongside Cameron, she raised her weapon and fired. A bright flash of light was the last thing anyone in the vault saw of 1999.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was 9:36 pm on a busy highway near the outskirts of Los Angelus when a light show erupted in the middle of the two-lane road leading towards the City of Angels causing cars to swerve out of the way. A giant blue orb of super intense heat simmered into view and caused the driver of Nissan Altima to slam on the breaks, stopping just feet away from the sphere.

As the sphere faded away, it revealed three naked bodies huddled on the ground. Cameron who was the only one of the three not lying on her side looked at the car directly in front of her. Standing up, she made no attempt to cover her body. Terminators weren't programmed to protect their modesty. As she glanced around to take in their surroundings, John and Sarah stood up.

As John climbed to his feet he hugged himself for warmth. Looking around he couldn't help but think. '_God damn its cold! This sucks!'_

Suddenly Cameron pivoted showing John her entire being. His thoughts quickly changed to. '_God damn! It's cold! This rocks!'_

Grabbing her charge's arm, she quickly pulled him off the highway and towards a nearby construction zone. Sarah held back a few seconds before following after them. The trio quickly ran down a relatively steep hill before navigating their way through the maze of construction equipment. When she felt they had made it a safe distance away Cameron stopped.

"Where are we?" Sarah asked as she once again wrapped her arms around her chest for warmth.

"Same where, different when." The machine replied. A nearby electrical sign flashed the date 09-03-07; September 3, 2007.

As both Connors swallowed the fact that they had defied the laws of physics and had successfully traveled to the future, Cameron walked to a nearby road where she had seen an approaching vehicle. Mother and son watched as the nude terminator put herself in front of the vehicles path causing it to stop. Three car doors opened and three obviously intoxicated males stepped out saying crude phrases to her as they approached.

'_I don't know why, but for some reason I have the sudden urge to go on a drunken frat boy killing spree.' _He thought feigning ignorance. As the men got within arms reach, Cameron lashed out and quickly incapacitated the three men.

"It might be the hormones, but watching a small, attractive, naked girl kick three guys' asses is just awesome." John spoke aloud. Mentally he added. '_If I ever get amnesia, please for the love of God don't let me forget that.'_

Sarah was extremely grateful that her son stood behind her and wouldn't be able to see her smile. She didn't want to explain to him that hormones had nothing to do with it. Watching a vulnerable looking teenage girl level three guys nearly twice her size was "awesome" no matter how you looked at it. Cameron returned a moment later with the men's clothing. Mother and son split off to dress in privacy. Not taking any chances, John's protector positioned herself so she could keep an eye on him should something happen.

As the three finished dressing John took charge of the situation. Something he'd been doing a lot of recently. "Well, we have clothes and a temporary vehicle. Wish I could call it a day, but we're not done yet."

"And what would you suggest we do next?" his mother asked. She knew what they needed to do, but wanted to test her son.

"We'll need money and some better clothing. Also we'll need a place of residence…we'll also need to restock on weapons." He answered. "What time is it?"

"9:52." Cameron answered.

Pulling out the wallet in his pants pocket, he counted the number of bills inside. "There are still too many people out for us to get the money we need. I say we find a clothing store that is still open before we try to gather any funds."

"And how do you plan to do that?" His mother asked, knowing there were many ways to go about it.

"Same as always." He answered. "Rob an ATM. Though we'll probably want to hit more than one. That's why we should get some better clothes first. Give the roads some time to empty so we don't run the risk of too many people seeing us."

"You don't have any of your tools." Sarah reminded him.

"Not true, I have a universal one over there." He said jabbing his thumb in Cameron's direction.

Satisfied for the time being, she responded. Saying, "Then let's get to it."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The clock struck one as Charley Dixon quietly made his way through the living room and towards the basement. His mind was still reeling at what he had seen on the television only a few hours earlier. On the news he saw two people he had thought died almost a decade ago, his ex-fiancé Sarah "Reese" Connor and her son John. He still couldn't believe it. Two people he had cared for deeply were still alive. It had been this startling realization that caused him to sneak around his house late at night like some thief while his wife, Michelle slept in their bedroom.

Reaching the cement floor of the basement he walked over to a secluded corner that served as their storing area and moved many boxes out of the way until he revealed a small safe resting on the floor. Crouching down he grabbed the dial and put in the correct combination. With a silent click the door was unlocked. Opening the safe, revealed the contents consisting of only two things, a small cardboard box and a carefully folded letter. Reaching in, he grabbed the folded piece of paper. It and the box had been the last thing he'd received from the boy he had come to see as a son. Unfolding the letter he read.

_Dear Charlie,_

_Let me start of with an apology. I'm sorry for whatever suffering my mother and I put you through. It may be hard to believe…hell even I didn't believe it at the time. But we did it to protect you. With all that's happened recently, I can honestly say it was the right thing to do. Mom and I would have only brought you trouble and expose you to a fate you do not deserve. I wish I could say more, but the less you know the better. _

_With that out of the way, I'll get straight to the point. I need you to do me a favor. I know you owe us nothing, but you're the only person I can trust with this. Inside the box is one of my most coveted possessions. It means the world to me and sadly I can't bring it with me where I'm going. So I entrust it to you. Please take care of it until I return. No matter what you hear, know that I __will__ come back for it. Hell itself could not stop me from coming back for it._

_If you could do this for me I'd greatly appreciate it. Like I said, I know you don't owe us anything, but I am begging you to hold onto this for me. This will probably be the last you hear from me for some time. You are one of the only men I've known that I would have proudly called dad and I hope you will one day find the joy that mom and I couldn't offer you. _

_Sincerely,_

_John Connor aka John Reese._

The letter had broken Charlie's heart. Every year on the day John and Sarah had supposedly died he would reread the letter and spend the rest of the night mourning his loss. Very few people knew he had been born barren and would never father any children. It had been a fact made him grow bitter with age. But that had all changed when he met Sarah and John. It didn't matter that they weren't related by blood. John had been and always would be his son.

Folding up the letter he put it back in the safe before pulling out the cardboard box. Even after he had thought John dead, Charlie fulfilled his son's final request. He kept the item in the box in mint condition and never once considered getting rid of it. It was the last link he had to his son. Opening the end of the box, he reached his hand inside and got a firm hold of John's most prized possession. Pulling it out of the box revealed the item inside to be a six shooter, a Colt Anaconda to be precise with the inscription "Justice for All" engraved in the barrel. Even in the poorly lit basement the gun shined as if it were the sun itself.

Setting the gun on top of the safe he tilted the box and let two bullets fall into the palm of his hand. He didn't understand why the gun only had two rounds or what their significance was, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that John had packed them inside the box with the gun so they had some meaning to him. The video clip on the news and the words in the letter filled the paramedic with hope. John was alive and he would be coming for the gun. He would finally get the chance to find the answers to a mystery he thought would forever remain unsolved…

(Chapter 2 End)

A/N: Thus completes the Pilot episode. I hope you all enjoyed the second chapter and ask you dearly for reviews. As I've said before I've never written chapters this long before and I would really like some feedback on them. For those who haven't seen my profile recently I have a link to a forum on cameron and john . com (minus spaces) where I post status updates and the occasional excerpt to tide you over while I'm writing the chapters. Feel free to leave comments or questions there if you so choose.


	3. Min egen dagsorden

(Disclaimer: All Chapters of this story are the product of my own creation using the characters from the T.V. show Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. I am making no money off it and write solely for my own entertainment)

Special thanks to Fortex for betaing the chapter as well as helping me with concepts and ideas for the story.

**Chapter 3: Min egen dagsorden**

John laid on his back staring at the sky in the backyard of their new house. As he looked up into the cloudless blue he couldn't help but feel at peace with the world around him. A soft breeze, birds chirping, and no machines from the future trying to kill him; life was good. Shutting his eyes, he basked in the warm sun. Moments such as these were rare and should be enjoyed to the fullest. A shot of pain from one of many bruised muscles reminded him he was full of crap. His entire life had been based around constantly doing something and when he did nothing it irked him to no end. Peace was never on the agenda for John Connor. He moved to get up but another series of aches and pains convinced him otherwise.

'_Am I really that rusty?'_ he questioned. The past hour had been spent sparring to help fix the damage from _acting_ normal for six months…or was that eight years and six months?

Six months didn't mean too much to an experienced fighter. So long as they didn't let their body go completely the damage from a six month hiatus was minimal. After all, the body never forgot the motions that had been trained into it day in and day out…even if the mind did.

'_Instinct at its best.'_ He mused, but instinct only went so far.

While his body went through the motions, his mind questioned them. Is this right? Is my stance to wide? Am I leaving myself open? Such questions were distractions and served as a hindrance. When you fight your mind shouldn't be critiquing you, but your opponent. Strike the leg or the gut? Are they overextended? Was that a feint? Those were the questions that needed to ask. Combat was all about action and reaction and the most skilled fighters knew to focus on reaction. Another lance of pain shot through John causing him to wince.

'_Why did I ever let her talk me into that?'_ he pondered. It had been his mother's idea to stop sparring with him. "Normal boys don't spar with their mothers" she had said. To which he replied "I'm older than my father, I don't rank as normal". Now that he thought about it, that argument hadn't ended well.

As his thoughts turned to his mother he couldn't keep them from travelling a dark road. After they had acquired some money and clothes, she had once more taken the reigns of leadership. At the time he had no problem with that, she was more experienced after all. But the problems started coming when she started forcing him to the sidelines. She started keeping everything to herself and doing most things alone. Occasionally she would send Cameron out to gather more funds, but for John it was always the same thing. Stay inside where you'll be safe. _Their_ plans, _their _options, _their _objectives all became _her _plans, _her_ choices, and _her _objectives.

A frown found its way onto his face as he thought over the events that occurred over the past week. His faith in his mother was faltering. He felt she didn't trust him that she couldn't rely on him, and that would only serve as a catalyst for things down the road. Sighing he decided to run with it for a little longer. Going half-cocked into a world he hadn't been a part of for nearly eight years would be risky and it would only widen the gap that he could feel developing between him and his mother.

Still, after a week of house arrest his patience was nearing its end. He had already finished the security system for their new house and with what little money they currently had, that pretty much meant he had completed the only thing that could keep him busy. All he had left now was to train his body physically and since his mother was usually out "gathering intel" that meant the only person he could rely on was his terminator guardian, Cameron.

'_Speak of the devil.'_ He thought as her shadow fell over him. Cracking open one eye he looked up at her. Her current wardrobe consisted of the exact same clothes she wore before he asked her to spar. A grey t-shirt with the name of some band he had never heard of emblazoned on the front and a denim skirt. Being a walking weapon meant she didn't have to change into anything for a sparring match, he supposed. As he took in her appearance he realized that from his current angle laying on the ground he could see directly up her skirt. John being the perfect gentleman that he was opened the other eye.

"Are we going to continue?" Cameron asked looking down at her charge.

"Nope." He responded cheerfully. "I think I'll continue to lay here and stare at the sky."

"You're not staring at the sky."

"…I can still see it."

A moment of silence followed John's response. The two remained stationary with Cameron watching him and John watching a certain part of her. Another minute passed before Cameron broke the silence.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not human."

Instantly the fun he was having disappeared. Why was it always three little words that carried the most power? For lovers it was "I love you", but for John it was "I'm not human". Part of him wished to go back to that school in rat's ass New Mexico and relive the time he shared with her when he thought she _was_ human. Sure she acted odd, but it had been kind of cute. A small part of him wondered how far things would have gone had Cromartie not shown up. The kiss they shared fueling it on. It would have been a lie to say he hadn't developed a small crush on her at the time, but would it have evolved? That question would forever remain unanswered and he didn't know how he felt about that

For Cameron wasn't the cute, quirky, girl that kicked ass at gun games. She wasn't a girl at all really. She was a machine, a metal body with a pretty girl wrapping paper on top, a terminator. She would never be his first love that he would look back on with bittersweet memories. She was just a lie. One of many that dominated his life. Looking at her face for the first time since the conversation began, he sadly replied.

"…I know."

XxXxXxXxX

Later that afternoon, John could be found stepping out of the shower. His sparring match from earlier had left his body sweaty and bruised and the hot water from the shower had been a godsend for his aching muscles. Wrapping a towel around his waist he wiped the mirror of its condensation and checked the varying degrees of bruising that now decorated his body. Turning around and looking over his shoulder, he gently prodded a large purple bruise and winced.

*KNOCK*KNOCK*

"Yeah?" he asked while he continued his inspection.

"Are you decent?" He heard his mother ask.

Looking down at the towel covering his waist he shrugged and opened the door.

"I'm going-Oh God! What happened?" Sarah asked as she quickly moved into the bathroom and checked the numerous bruises on her son.

"Sparring with Cameron." He answered.

"Do I even want to know why you were sparring with a terminator?" She calmly asked with an underlying tone of hardness expressing her displeasure.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time."

Sarah gave her son one of her "you're stupid" stares. "You though sparring with an opponent who can snap bones as easily as you snap twigs, was a good idea?"

John felt her press hard on one of his larger bruises in an attempt to drive her point home. Using the same sarcasm she showed him, he replied. "Yeah, the idea came to me after my mom left me with my metal babysitter for the fifth consecutive day after moving into our new house."

"John…"

"But that's not all. You see the three of us, my mom, robo-nanny 2000, and myself all jumped eight years into the future. And guess what? After five days of living in the future, I still have no idea how much things have changed. You see my mom…she's a little paranoid and wont' let me out of the house because I don't have the proper forms of identification."

"Okay, John…"

"So I patiently wait for her to get our new identification, but every time she goes out it's for "research". Common sense would lead you to believe that more information could be gathered if _everyone_ pitched in rather than only one of us. But what would I know? I'm just the future-leader-of-mankind-in-training."

"Alright, John!" Sarah firmly spoke cutting off any further comments from her son. "You've made your point. I'll seek out Enrique and get our new identities."

"You're getting our new I.D.s?" Came the voice of their resident terminator.

Sarah frowned at her approach. The machine had been useful while on the run, but now there was nothing they really needed protection from and the idea of a long term metal guardian didn't sit well with her. "That's what I said."

"Then we should be going." She said, turning to leave.

"Just a second there, Tin Man."

"…Tin _man_?" John muttered under his breath.

Sarah ignored him. "_We_ aren't going anywhere. _I'm_ going to get our new papers and _you_ are to stay here and watch John."

"If we're getting new I.D.s then you'll need me to take you to John's men." Cameron stated.

The two Connors shared a look of surprise.

XxXxXxXxX

"Five days! We're in the future for five days and not once did you feel the need to share that there are others fighting SKYNET here!?" Sarah fumed. She had managed to hold her anger in check the whole way to a nearby parking garage. But now within the privacy of their soon to be new stolen car, did she let the machine know how she felt. Cameron continued to hotwire the car, not once showing any interest in what Sarah had to say. She had a mission to do and no where in the mission parameters did it say anything about considering the older woman's feelings.

Before Sarah could continue venting on the terminator, her cell phone rang. Knowing it could only be one person; she took a few deep breaths before answering it. "What is it, John?"

"Done yelling at her yet?" He asked.

Glaring at the machine for good measure she replied in a neutral tone, "I wasn't yelling."

"Yeah, of course you weren't," He said with much sarcasm. "Can you hand her the phone?"

Pulling the phone away from her ear she looked at it for a few seconds with mixed feelings. John hadn't called to speak with her, but with the machine. Handing the phone over to Cameron, Sarah could only hope this would not be a continuing trend.

Cameron took the phone and brought it to her ear. "John?"

"She done yelling at you?"

Looking over she saw Sarah glaring out the window. A more detailed scan picked up all the subtle hits to indicate that she was still angry. "Possibly."

"Look, don't pay her too much mind. She doesn't trust machines regardless of which side they're on."

"Understood." Cameron replied.

"Yeah well it makes things a right pain in the ass. I mean, you're here to help us and you can't do that if she's second-guessing your every move."

"She will adjust given time."

"…Yeah…sure." He said uncertainly. "By the way, is there anything else I should know? You really blindsided us when you said future-me sent back more soldiers."

"No. There's nothing."

"…Alright. See ya later then." he said before hanging up.

XxXxXxXxX

John stared at the phone in his hand. Cameron had said there was nothing else she was hiding, but he wasn't so certain. She had already shown that she was capable of withholding important information. And while she said there was nothing more she was hiding, he wasn't certain if he could believe that. Something was off. As the old saying goes, he could feel it in his gut.

His instincts had been right when he first met Cameron and sensed something was off with her, just like it had been right about Cromartie, and just like it had been right when the T-1000 had impersonated his mother. Now his gut was telling him either Cameron couldn't be trusted or that she was hiding something big. He didn't have any evidence to support either possibility, but it didn't matter. He was no longer pretending to be John Reese just your everyday normal teenage boy. No, now he was back in the role of John Connor future leader of man kind. And John Connor trusted his instincts, especially when it came to terminators.

XxXxXxXxX

The trip to the resistance hideout was short and silent, with Cameron taking the quickest route. Pulling to the side of the road the two got out and headed to a worn out looking four story apartment complex that the terminator had pointed out. As they entered the lobby, Sarah broke the silence, "How many are there?"

"Four."

"These resistance fighters…they know you?" She questioned. If they weren't expecting any company the last thing Sarah wanted to do was approach four experienced soldiers with a terminator in tow.

Cameron neared the stairwell and glanced up. "They've seen me before."

'_Sounds like they enjoy your company about as much as I do.'_ She thought as she followed her up the stairs.

"Why would they have a room at the top floor? The first floor would provide you with the quickest means of escape." She mused aloud.

"Quickest way for an assassin to get to them as well." Cameron replied. Sarah stopped for a second to consider that angle.

"Touché." She said before marching forward.

As Cameron neared the door she noted several things amiss; the boot imprint on the center of the door, the broken wood near the lock and the door being held ajar by the still extended lock bolt. Pushing the door open she did a quick scan of the room before entering. Four bodies lay on the ground showing no life signs.

Stepping further into the room, she approached one of the bodies whilst Sarah followed behind. Shutting the door quickly and quietly to keep from drawing attention she turned around and watched as the terminator raised the right arm of one of the corpses and pulled the sleeve back revealing a black mark that appeared to be a barcode of some sort.

"I've seen that mark before," She said. "Kyle Reese had one just like it."

"It's the mark of a SKYNET work camp. He was a prisoner." Cameron explained.

"Does John have one?"

The terminator paused what she was doing and looked her right in the eyes, giving her an unspoken answer.

"Yes."

Having finished checking the second body, she moved on to the third. This one had fallen on his stomach rather than on his back or side. As she turned the body over she glanced at a face she didn't recognize.

'_A last minute change?'_ She pondered as she raised his right arm. As she was about to pull back the man's sleeve his eyes shot open, catching her off guard. The man grabbed both her wrists and threw her off with more force than any human could match.

'_The killer.'_ She corrected as the hostile terminator stood up and marched over to her, ignoring Sarah. The male terminator grabbed her arms and lifted her up, possibly to throw her again. But Cameron had, had enough with being tossed around. Her arms snapped out with their own inhuman strength. Breaking his hold she went to attack him only for him to grab her again. Breaking his hold again she again tried to renew her attack only to be thwarted for a second time. She broke his grip for the third time and changed tactics.

With his hands no longer holding her, she used all her strength and pushed the machine back into and through a wall. Stepping over the remains she moved over to him to continue her assault. However, when she was within arms reach her opponent grabbed her ankle and yanked her off her feet. With the roles reversed and her opponent standing, Cameron was unable to stop the larger terminator from lifting her up and slamming her against the wall.

Her assailant knew he had to get rid of her quick and rushed to the window, intent on throwing her out of it. Cameron knew she couldn't let him succeed. If he did, Sarah would be left to deal with the machine alone. As the lager terminator threw her, she grabbed his jacket and pulled him with her. The combined force of the two machines sent them rocketing high above the alley and into the brick wall of the adjacent building.

Sarah rushed to the window to check on the two machines. She watched as the male terminator looked at Cameron briefly before getting up and running away. Cameron followed suit not long after. Turning away from the window she ran for the door, only stopping to scoop up a handgun. As she exited the building she looked both ways before finding a man sitting on a motor cycle and talking on his cell phone.

"Off!" She ordered him at gunpoint. The man quickly complied. Getting onto the bike she started its engine before rushing off the direction she believed the two machines had gone.

Meanwhile, Cameron chased her larger counterpart through various alleys and over a number of fences. The male terminator had just finished leaping over and iron fence and ducking under the ledge of a building, but his large frame was working against him. More than once he found his pace forcefully slowed down by his size allowing his pursuer to close in. As he crossed the street into another alley a motorcycle came sliding on its side seemingly from out of nowhere. The vehicle struck true and hit the terminator's legs, knocking him off his feet.

Seeing her opponent on the ground, Cameron ceased running and walked briskly across the street. Halfway across the sound of tires on pavement alerted her to a fast approaching vehicle. Cameron turned her head just in time to see the car before it hit her. The male terminator saw his chance and made a run for it. Sarah jogged up to where the motorcycle had stopped and watched as the machine exited the other side of the alley and turned the corner. There would be no chance of catching him now.

Cameron appeared a moment later after having pulled herself free from the car that had struck her. Looking at Sarah, she said, "We should leave. Before the police get here."

Sarah said nothing as she ran away.

XxXxXxXxX

When they were two blocks away from their house Sarah pulled the car to the side of the road. Chances were it was reported by now and they didn't want to be anywhere near it should the police find it. Walking past the waist-high fence that bordered the front yard Cameron was about to enter the house when Sarah grabbed her arm and pushed her against the wall near the door.

"You told me we'd be safe! SAFE!" She said shaking the terminator for good measure. "Was that safe!? Less than a week here and we're already at war! Why jump at all? Why not stay in the past?"

Cameron didn't answer.

"I had seven more years to get ready! To get _him_ ready!"

"No you wouldn't have." She interjected.

"And why not?"

"Because you died. Two years ago." She answered, before elaborating. "December 4th, 2005. You died."

Sarah was shocked at the news. It wasn't everyday you were told the exact date of your death. Cameron moved to open the door, but was stopped by Sarah again.

"Don't tell John. About this or that there are other machines sent by SKYNET."

"Why?" Cameron asked tilting her head in confusion.

"Because if he knows he'll insist on coming with us. He'll want to be there should we be attacked. I'd rather he be here, at the house. That way I know where he is and _they_ don't."

"John should know." The terminator insisted.

"And he will. But only _after_ we have everything we need. Papers, guns, money…everything we would have gotten from those soldiers. Understand?"

Cameron only stared.

XxXxXxXxX

John sighed as he entered the living room. He had looked up and down Cameron's room looking for anything out of place. But there was nothing. Truth be told, he hadn't expected to find anything anyway. They had only been living in the house for less than a week. Not only that but they had come to the future with nothing, not even the clothes on their back. How could Cameron have possibly managed to smuggle something it the house without Sarah or him noticing?

'_Guess it wasn't a total loss.'_ He mused. He had checked every nook, cranny, and drawer during his search. It was only a matter of time before he stumble upon Cameron's unmentionables. '_I'd have never guessed she was a 36b.'_

As John was picturing the sight of his bodyguard in her underwear, the front door opened revealing the source of his fantasy. As he looked at her he took note of the scratches and scrapes covering her face and the tears in her jacket.

"What the hell happened?"

"I will require your assistance to take care of my injuries." She stated, ignoring his question. "Head to the kitchen, I will be there shortly with the first aid kit."

John was left in a state of confusion as he watched her walk down the hall. Turning around he hoped to get some answers from his mother. As she stepped into the house he took note of her sober expression. John decided to hold off on his interrogation. Something happened, something big. But what?

XxXxXxXxX

Less than five minutes later found the group congregating in the kitchen. John stood behind a shirtless Cameron picking shards of glass out of her back with a pair of tweezers. For the sake of modesty and to keep the young future leader of mankind focused on the task at hand, she left her bra on. On the table laid an open first aid kit with its supplies scattered about.

"So…" John started as he yanked out a large fragment and brought it to eye level for inspection. "What the hell happened?"

Cameron looked over at Sarah, prompting her to speak.

"Robo-Nanny forgot to look both ways before crossing the streets."

"You were hit by a car!?" He said with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Cameron looked over her shoulder at him.

"Yes." She said before turning back around.

"How!? I mean you're a super computer from the future! Don't you have a built in radar or something!?"

Shrugging she responded, "Shit happens."

"Now I wonder where she learned that." Sarah pondered aloud while glaring at her son. John ignored her.

"No, shit happens to stupid people who aren't paying attention."

"Well, I guess that makes our little terminator friend a stupid machine who wasn't paying attention."

John debated if starting an argument defending Cameron would be worth the effort. Giving a small shake of his he started packing up the first aid kit. "How 'bout the soldiers? Did you meet up with them?"

"Yes," His mother answered.

"…and?"

"They were dead." She answered evenly.

"Dead!?" John exclaimed. "How? Why?"

"Yes, dead." Sarah repeated. "How, is by gunshot. The why however…is anyone's guess. They were hiding in a bad neighborhood it could have been for any number of reasons."

"How could four experienced soldiers possibly be taken down? Bad neighborhood or not, I just don't see how they could be taken out by some small time wannabe badass." He thought aloud.

"Experience means nothing if someone gets the drop on you." Cameron supplied.

Sighing he let the topic drop and turned to his mother. "School registration is at three tomorrow. You think we can get those papers sometime before then?"

Sarah walked over and placed a comforting hand on her son's shoulder. "Try to be patient a little longer. You'll get your new identity soon enough…is being a Connor really such a bad thing?"

"Only most days." He said dejectedly. Sarah hadn't expected that response.

"Yeah…right." She agreed quietly before walking out. When she was out in the hall she collapsed against the wall. What could she possibly have said to him? "Buck up, you're the future leader of mankind"? Who in their right mind would find that future appealing?

No matter what way she looked at it, John was right. Being a Connor rarely had its good days. Constantly running for your life, fighting machines from the future, knowing the exactly when the apocalypse would come; and that was just naming a few of the burdens that followed them.

'_April 21, 2011…and I died on December 4, 2005.'_ She thought. Those two dates were her burden. One she shared with John, the other by herself. The weight of those dates however, had little bearing. It was the time between them and how efficiently it was used that really mattered. The date of her death had been jumped over, but all that meant was her time was coming and once again it was a question of when.

Turning around she marched back into the kitchen. Passing her son, who was looking at her curiously she walked up to Cameron and said, "You ready to go tin man?"

"Tin man?" Both John and Cameron questioned, though for different reasons.

"Yes, are you patched up and not showing any of your shiny under-parts off?" She said impatiently while John tried to stifle his laughter at her word choice.

"Thank you for explaining." She stated before walking to and out the door.

Rounding on her son, Sarah opened her mouth to speak but was cut off.

"Yeah, yeah…be a statue, no going outside; chain yourself to the wall for good measure. I get it."

"I mean it, John! You better be here when we get back."

"Where would I go? It's not like I really know what's out there." He responded with annoyance.

"And that's why you need to stay inside." Sarah said before leaving.

XxXxXxXxX

Once more in the car, the two women were on their way to meet with Sarah's old contact and friend, Enrique. As she drove the car Cameron would tell her when and where to turn. Part of her wondered how it was that the terminator knew where to go but brushed the thought off. All that mattered was getting there. After a moment of silence, Sarah spoke.

"So was it all a lie? Did you really bring us to the future just to jump my death?"

Cameron looked over at her and shook her head. "No, fighting SKYNET is one of my orders. John wanted us to jump your death because he wanted his best fighter aiding him."

"I'm sure he has soldiers far better than-"

"No," Cameron interrupted. "The best. _You_ taught him everything he knows. Everything that makes him who he is. You are the best soldier to John."

Sarah felt a burst of pride. Kyle had told her she was viewed as a legendary soldier in the future, but she had been skeptical. Hearing someone else, even if it was a terminator say the same thing made her happy. Everything she did, everything she'd endured had not been in vain. She left her mark in the world and against SKYNET. For Sarah there was no better end.

"So if I was such great soldier, how did I die?" She asked curiously.

"Cancer."

"Guess you can't win every battle."

"No…you can't." The terminator agreed.

XxXxXxXxX

John paced back and forth in the kitchen. That was all he had to do. Every possible thing that could occupy his time was done. Chores, installing the security system, riffling though Cameron's underwear drawer…though that last one wasn't entirely intentional. But it was all done. Looking over at the microwave for the seventh time he saw the green numbers _3:42_ flashing at him. It had been exactly five minutes since he started watching it.

"Arg!!!" He groaned in frustration. Walking over to the kitchen window he looked at the outside world with envy. What possible dangers could lie out there? Cromartie was gone, destroyed inside the bank before the time jump and the time jump alone would make it more difficult for SKYNET to find him. The only thing he had to worry about was running into cops. If they tried to I.D. him or worse, realize who he was, then that would be the end of it. However, that being said the police wouldn't be actively seeking them either. They would be looking for a twenty-four year old hacker, not the fifteen year old teenager that he still was.

"…Fuck it." He said quietly to himself. His mind made up, John left the house.

XxXxXxXxX

"I am not surprised." Enrique said as he sat down with Sarah at his side and Cameron across from him. "I know I looked surprised in that first moment. But I am not surprised."

The aged freedom fighter looked over at Cameron, a new face to him. "Do you know this woman?" He asked. Before she could answer, he continued. "It's rhetorical. If you don't, you don't. But if you do and you're anything like her, you'll lie and say you don't. But if you do…then I know you, like me are not surprised."

Despite the complexity and power of her processor, Cameron couldn't help but feel slightly confused when trying to follow his words. Enrique turned his attention to Sarah and said joyfully. "And John! He's a man now!"

Sarah nodded, "He's really grown. He misses you." Not wanting to beat around the bush, she cut right to the chase. "I need three sets of papers. I can pay…not a lot, but some up front and more later on."

A shake of his finger left her feeling perplexed.

"Why not?"

"I'm finished with that life."

"What?" She questioned. Just how much had changed since the time jump?

"Are you familiar with Ricardo Lopez?" He questioned. Seeing Sarah shake her head he elaborated. "The boxer from Guatemala. He's very famous in my country. His nickname is, El Finito."

"The Finisher." She translated.

"Yes! He fought fifty-two fights, fifty-one victories, one draw, and no losses. Zero."

"I don't understand." Cameron cut in. This had nothing to do with what they wanted. To her, Enrique was wasting their time.

"I want to be El Finito. To retire undefeated." He explained. "I lived my wild life. I fought the wars I wanted to…and a few I did not." Gesturing around, he continued. "Now look at me! I live everyday free. Not one day behind bars or in the hands of the enemy! So now…I am finished. El Finito."

"Happy for you." Sarah said sullenly. "Sad for me, but happy for you."

Giving her a mirthful smile, he stood up. "Hey, don't give up so easily. I did not say I cannot help."

Walking into another room he soon returned with a pen and paper. "My nephew, Carlos has…how we say, taken over the family business. His operation is good…but he is _not_ a believer."

Sarah wished that meant for her what it did for him. She wished there would be more people out there who believed in Judgment day. But that sort of naïve thinking was what landed her in Pescadero.

No…Enrique's meaning of believer stemmed from those who believed in your cause. For the most part that meant they were fellow freedom fighters. But overtime it came to mean brotherhood. For Enrique, a believer was someone you could count on to have your best interests at heart.

"Few believers left." She said as she took Carlos's address.

XxXxXxXxX

John stood on the outskirts of the mall; fortunately some things in Los Angeles stayed the same. Entering the building he quickly moved over to the directory and started scanning the store names. Some he recognized, some he did not. As he scanned through the names he found the one he was looking for; it had been a large computer retailer in the past and odds were it still was. Seeing that it hadn't moved anytime in the past eight years he made his way to it. When he got there, shock filled his mind.

Eight years wasn't really a long time to most people. For children and teenagers it seemed long because of the changes their bodies undergo. For computers, eight years may as well have been eight hundred years. The rate of improvement in technology was such that when the latest components are released, they are already obsolete. For John, who hadn't been around to watch this change, it was like stepping onto a Star Trek set.

Laptops were sleek and compact, but underneath that small frame was a powerful system. Back in 1999 laptops were practically dinosaurs in comparison; smaller than a desktop but larger than an algebra textbook. Browsing up and down the aisles he became enraptured by the many shapes and sizes. He studied each tag listing its components and properties.

'_I so gotta get me one of these.'_ He thought as he finished reading another tag.

Despitethe elation that came with his screening, John felt some trepidation. Eight years ago he was one of the world's greatest hackers and had more knowledge on computers than practically anyone else in comparison. But none of that meant anything anymore. No one would be using the computers and programs he was familiar with. They would be using newer versions of those programs and be equipped with far more complex means of protection. He would have to virtually start from scratch and rebuild his fundamentals. But now the stakes were higher and he couldn't afford to get caught hacking.

'_Looks like I'll be having a few study dates with my super-computer babysitter.'_ He thought as he walked over to a laptop labeled "display". Cameron would be the perfect person to help him get acquainted with the changes in technology. After all, while this was high-tech to him, it was primitive to her.

As his hands settled onto the keyboard and mouse a cold rush ran through his body. He was a junkie for technology and here was his fix. Moving the mouse over to the internet icon he double clicked and watched the screen popup, unaware of the HD monitor behind him was showing the store what the laptop showed him. Moving the cursor to the search bar, he typed in two words; a name, "John Connor". Pressing enter he was rewarded with a long list of results.

Scrolling down he saw one that dealt with his "latest" crime, the holdup at the bank along with his subsequent death. Double clicking the link he scrolled down, ignoring the text. A large picture from a security camera showed Cameron pointing a gun at the teller while his mother and he stood behind her. John quickly took a moment to look up and see if anyone was watching. Considering the coast to be clear he scrolled down further. The next picture showed a black man in a suit. Looking down at the footnote under the picture he read "FBI Agent James Ellison was in charge of the Connor case". He scrolled down a bit further until a name in blue caught his eye. Charley Dixon.

He knew what the blue text meant and quickly clicked on it taking him to a different page and coincidentally a different story. Finding a picture featuring a group of men, he scanned the faces looking for the one that belonged to a man he loved as a father. The search didn't take long, but his viewing was cut short when a voice snapped him to attention.

"Who's Charley Dixon?"

John's head whipped up bringing him face to face with one of the store's clerks.

"You shouldn't browse with the demos." She advised with a smile while pointing to something behind him. Looking over his shoulder, John was shocked to see the same page he was looking at available for everyone to see. Moving the mouse over to the top right corner he quickly closed the page. The clerk moved around the counter and quickly took control of the mouse. "You want to delete your history too?"

"Uh, what?" He asked distractedly while looking around. If the clerk saw the page with Charley then it was possible someone saw the page featuring him.

"Snoopy people dude, snoopy people." The clerk said as she deleted the computers internet history before emptying the recycle bin. Turning back to John she gave him a smile. "We have a special on those."

"Maybe later." He replied hastily before quickly exiting the store.

As John left the store his body fell into what he called a retreat mode. His subconscious recognized there may be an unseen threat and that escape was important. His head tipped slightly but not the full forty-five degrees that most people fleeing would give. His hands moved to his jacket pockets and relaxed rather than jammed in as far as they could go. His stride didn't speed up, but the distance between each step was far longer than usual to compensate. The best way not to get caught fleeing was to look like you weren't fleeing at all.

"Way to go John! Trying to learn more about the future without drawing attention and you post your face on a giant TV screen! Even better, your picture is accompanied with a story on how you, your mother, and a third associate held up a bank and died! Real smooth dick-wad, why don't you just go turn yourself in and save yourself the embarrassment!" He muttered under his breath. A few people glanced over, but his words were too soft for them to make out. No one gave him a second look. He was just another teenager in need of medication.

"Future leader of mankind in a war against killer super-computers and you get duped by one that isn't even a terminator!" He continued berating himself at the same quiet pitch. However, that didn't keep one passerby from hearing him clear as day.

"John Connor?" A deep male voice called out.

Like all people do, John instantly turned around looking for who called his name. It didn't take him long to lock eyes with a tall red headed man with broad shoulders and a blank look on his face. A look he knew all too well.

"Fuck me…" He said with much dismay before breaking into a full-out run. The red headed terminator took that as all the proof he needed and quickly gave chase.

John counted what little fortune he had. With it being a sunny Sunday afternoon the mall was packed. Weaving between the crowds he was able to put a fair amount of distance between him and the terminator chasing him. Due to the machine's large body it was constantly forcing people out of the way and was unable to utilize its full speed. But John didn't expect that to stop the machine, he needed more things to fill the gap.

As he neared the center of the mall he saw four possible directions; left, right, forward, and up. Getting closer to the center he threw a quick look around, not once stopping. A large group of people started for the up-escalator and John made his decision. Running to the escalator he roughly forced his way ahead of the group and continued running up the moving stairs. A slew of insults followed him only to be replaced with yells of fright as the terminator forced his way through, even going so far as to throw one of the patrons over the side of the escalator.

By the time the machine reached the top of the escalators, John was thirty feet away and rounding a corner. He didn't know if it was lucky or not with it being the second time in his life that a machine hunted him in a mall, but the knowledge from his past experience helped him in making decisions. Such as the one that told him not to go into the service hallways like he had in the past. They were narrow, devoid of obstacles, and for the most part only went one way.

Another thing he found relief in was the fact that the terminator didn't have a gun. If it had then it would have been firing at him by now. It wouldn't care about collateral. The T-1000 and T-800 hadn't cared about the mall maintenance worker and Cromartie hadn't cared about Cameron back at the school.

Up ahead John saw a wing of the mall that ended with a series of glass doors. Stores lined the sides but most were beauty salons for doing nails and hair. Not the best place for a young teenage boy to hide. One of the stores was a blood drive set up by the American Red Cross. But there was no way in hell he would hide in there. It would defeat the purpose of keeping his blood inside his body. Plus he didn't think they'd be to understanding of his situation. He only had one option, the doors leading outside.

Running past the stores and around the many people entering the mall he pushed open the doors and ran out into the daylight. The lot was large and full of parked cars offering him a better chance at hiding than when he had run from Cromartie. As he ran towards the parking lot he noticed a car parked on the side of the road nearly fifteen feet from the entrance of the mall. He briefly took note that its engine was running and its driver was sitting inside. A brief flash of thought made him consider high-jacking the vehicle, but he quickly chose against it. Such an action would take too long and by the time he got inside the car, the terminator would be upon him.

As he crossed the road towards the parking lot he glanced over at the car on final time. The driver was an old man roughly in his mid-sixties. From what John thought the man to be in good shape from what he saw, but there were too many factors to say if he was right or not. The vehicle started moving and the driver glared at him making a shooing motion. John felt a small smile tug at his lips at the irony. The driver's motions were aimed towards the parking lot.

Twenty feet into the sea of cars, he heard the loud screech of tires followed by a crash and people screaming. Looking over his shoulder he saw the car he had briefly considered stealing with its hood smashed in and the driver rushing out of the car towards a body lying on the street. The driver had hit the terminator.

'_Thank you, lady luck. You mind-fucking bitch!'_ He thought both thanking and cursing the persona he saw as his guardian angel.

Passing a Ford pickup, he noticed a tarp resting in the bed. He looked around to see if anyone or more importantly any_thing_ could see him before jumping into the bed and pulling the tarp over his body. There were too many cars for the machine to check everyone of them; all he had to do was wait for the owner of the truck to arrive and drive away. A frown crossed his face as the heat from the truck bed combined with the humidity created by the tarp covering him set in, it would be a miserable wait.

XxXxXxXxX

The red headed terminator picked itself up off the asphalt. The car had been an unexpected variable. Part of him wondered if the hit from the vehicle had been intentional.

"Jesus Christ, son! Are you ok?" The driver asked. He was an elderly gentleman with shoulder-length grey hair tied in a low ponytail with a bushy salt and pepper beard.

Looking over the parking lot, the terminator zoomed in on every person trying to find his target. When everyone had been scanned with no possible matches showing up it switched it vision to heat, but that too proved useless as the heat rising off many of the parked cars interfered with the scan. Turning to the driver, he took note of the worry on his face and the damage to the car.

"Sorry for your car." The terminator said before walking off. It had lost sight of John Connor, but no matter. After he completed his primary objective he would seek out Tech-coms leader.

The elderly driver smirked at the machine's back, "Nothing to be sorry for."

XxXxXxXxX

Sarah opened the driver side door of their stolen car and stepped out. A vehicle loudly playing hip-hop music passed the driveway. Looking around, she reached behind her waist and made sure the handgun she took from the resistance hideout was held securely. Unlike the lie she had told John about the hideout, this place _was_ in a bad neighborhood. Gang symbols spray painted on walls and buildings attested to that. Glancing over the top of the vehicle she saw Cameron looking at her expectantly.

Sarah walked towards the house. Her eyes scanning the area, she took note of possible forms of cover while noting the location of every person she could see. A quick glance at a second story window revealed another individual watching from inside. Looking over her shoulder quickly she saw Cameron gaze around before locking eyes with her. For the machine, her life was of little consequence. She was sent back to protect John and Sarah highly doubted the terminator would sacrifice itself to save her if things went sour.

A large, shirtless man of Latin descent walked past her. He was covered in tattoos and was probably meant to act as a form of intimidation. Sarah wasn't impressed, nor was she worried. By passing her, the large gang member put himself closer to Cameron. For the first time she found the saying "It's not what's on the outside, but what's within" to ring true.

As she neared the porch she saw a teenage girl leaning on the wooden railing seemingly staring off into space.

"Carlos," Sarah spoke hoping the name would be enough of an explanation for her visit. When the young woman failed to respond, she said. "Enrique sent us."

For the first time since she and seen her, the girl moved. A simple turn was followed up with a holier-than-thou look. Sarah gave no indication how much the look pissed her off. It was the same look she swore Cameron would give her. As if she was nothing but a bug in need of being squashed. After a moment of pause the young woman pushed herself off the rails and started walking to the door. Sarah and Cameron followed suit.

As they entered the house were led to the living room where a large number of young men, all of who were Latin gathered around. Three of the men were each holding a leash attached to the collars of three large dogs, mixed breeds from what Sarah could see. Upon noticing Cameron the dogs started snarling and barking. They fought hard against their bonds wanting to attack the machine. A young man in a red shirt and beige shorts came down the stairs yelling orders in a mixture of Spanish and English. Turning to her companion, Sarah suggested she head outside to help diffuse the chaos. Cameron nodded and walked back outside closely followed by the girl they met outside.

The man who descended the stairs seemed to finally give up and told the three men holding the dogs to take them out back. As they passed her, she watched them head to a door adjacent from the one she had entered. Sarah turned and gave one last look at Cameron. The red shirt man, who she assumed was Carlos from the way he had ordered the others, followed her gaze.

"Something bout your friend I should know?" He asked.

Shrugging she replied, "Cat person."

Carlos shrugged as well and started walking to one of the couches in the living room.

"Want a soda or something?"

"I'm good."

"We got the old fashioned soda machine." He said as if to entice her.

"I'm fine." She repeated. Quickly wanting to change the topic, she added. "So are all friends as sociable as Malibu Barbie out there?"

"Who, Chola? She's just that way with all new faces. Gotta separate the good customers from the bad, ya know? And most times the new faces are bad."

XxXxXxXxX

Outside Cameron stood near their car, her posture rigid. She watched with little interest as Chola approached. Her interest shot up a few notches when the Latin teen stepped in close. Her processer labeled the distance between them as a face-to-face encounter, something humans only did when they tried to intimidate someone. Looking at her from head to toe Cameron tried to figure out why the girl was trying to come off as a threat.

When Cameron failed to back away, Chola gave her a smirk. People had a tendency to become skittish when a stranger invaded their personal space. She took Cameron's lack of action as a challenge, as if to say "You don't scare me". Very few girls her age would do the same, even in this neighborhood. She found that commendable and backed off a step. Moving to stand beside her, Chola leant back and rested against the hood of the car.

Cameron was confused. Not realizing or understanding that she had gained Chola's respect. Looking over at her, she did a visual scan. The results told her Chola was roughly the same age as the one her organic tissue presented. Cameron thought back to the previous week when John had told her that just because she wasn't human didn't mean she couldn't act like one. How taking in such mannerisms would help her blend in and not draw any unwanted attention. Seeing Chola as the perfect model, she mimicked the pose getting a look mixed with annoyance and curiosity from her. The two stared at each other for a moment before looking off elsewhere.

XxXxXxXxX

"My uncle, he's very good at keeping secrets. I used to sit with him at family barbeques and try to get him to tell me some of 'em." Carlos reminisced.

"And how'd that work out for you?" Sarah politely asked.

"Not so good," He admitted. "Except one day, bout eight years ago I find him in the kitchen, bottle of Patrón and the _Times_. Know whose picture's on the front page?" Making a clicking noise, he pointed at her. "Only time I've ever seen my uncle cry."

"He's a good man."

Carlos shrugged. "Not for me to say. But he's my uncle...and you're as close as I'll ever get to one of his secrets. So I'm gonna give ya what you need."

"Thank you."

"Twenty-thousand."

Sarah let out a soft laugh in disbelief. "What? I don't have that."

"Twenty-thousand," He repeated. "And that's a family discount in these hard times. Especially for someone who's been dead eight years."

"That's extortion." She said with a frown.

"War on terrorism makes this the front lines, lady. Some rag-head gets fake papers here, we're all going to Guantanamo. 9/11 doubled prices overnight."

"9/11? What's that?" Sarah asked curiously. What could have possibly happened in the last eight years to warrant such high prices?

XxXxXxXxX

Outside, the familiar sound of a police radio could be heard drawing Cameron and Chola's attention. A tall cop stepped out of the vehicle and approached them.

"Hey, baby girl. What'd I tell you about hanging around?" He asked. Looking over at Cameron he added. "Who's your new friend here? Is she someone I need to know? Cause the longer you stand around, the more I think she's someone I need to know."

Chola rolled her eyes and walked off. The cop didn't bother stopping her.

"You got a name?" He asked stepping in towards Cameron.

Cameron recognized his actions to be similar to that of Chola's a few moments ago. Though he stood back a little farther than she had. Knowing the officer was expecting an answer she answered his question. "No."

She knew it would be best not to give him her given name. But the idea of using a false alias had the possibility of ending in disaster. Especially if Sarah were to walk out and call her by a different name. The officer gave a slight hum of annoyance. She was just another punk-ass teenager to him.

"This your car?"

"No. It's definitely not my car."

"See, I know just about everyone in this neighborhood, and you are not one of those everyone." He stated while walking around to check the side of the vehicle. "So now you got me wondering not just who you are, that you won't say but why you're here, and that you won't say."

Walking back around to stand in front of her again, he continued. "It's not uncommon in these neighborhoods for a gang dealing in drugs to store them inside of a stolen car. That way, no drugs can be found on their property or on any property belonging to them. But they also like to leave a lookout. Sometimes a pretty girl to watch their stash."

He wrote down the car's make, model, and license plates before looking back at her again. "Now since you claim this isn't your car, you won't mind if I call this license plate in, would you?"

As the cop started to walk away, Cameron's processor went into overdrive. The car was stolen and there was no doubt he would find out. Soon after that, more cops would arrive and the likelihood of their identities being exposed would greatly increase. There was only one thing for her to do. Kill the cop. If she was quick, he wouldn't be able to radio help and by the time someone came to investigate, she and Sarah would be long gone. Her choice made, she pushed off the car and moved quickly towards him.

"Jenny!" A voice called out. But it was ignored by both the officer and Cameron.

"Damn it, Jennifer!" The voice spoke again louder and laced with anger. This time the two did turn.

Sarah walked up towards Cameron and roughly grabbed her arm before dragging her past the officer. "How many times have I told you? Stop seeing that little prick! I swear to God. Is he meeting you here?"

"Ma'am?"

"Is he meeting you her? Is he meeting you here!?" She repeated with more ferocity.

"Ma'am?" The officer called out again. Sarah looked over at him. "You know this girl?"

"Yes, I know this girl!" She heatedly answered before looking back at Cameron. "Do I have any choice but to know you, you spoiled little bitch?"

Sarah was smirking on the inside. Despite the dangers associated with their situation, she found the whole thing to be a good form of stress relief. However, she couldn't keep this up forever. They needed to lose the cop.

"Do you do domestic complaints, officer? Can I make a domestic complaint against my spoiled little stepdaughter for making me want to beat my own brains in? It's her real mother's fault. Can I tell you what she lets her do?"

The officer shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like the idea of being pulled into an argument that was obviously personal. Wanting to change the subject, he asked. "Ma'am, is this your car?"

"Why would I drive that piece of crap?" Sarah answered quickly. All she needed was one more push and they would be on their way. "Because I will send you back to private school. The one with the uniforms. They will dress you like a flannel sock."

"Ma'am, maybe you can have this conversation somewhere else. Like at home perhaps? Out of gang territory." He suggested. The last thing he wanted was to get tied up with a family matter in the middle of a bad neighborhood.

"Gang territory?" She questioned with false surprise. The cop gave a quick nod. Sarah gave him a quick thanks before dragging Cameron away. She roughly pulled the terminator one block before finally letting go of her.

"Thirteen miles to walk home. We need another car." Cameron stated.

"Were you gonna kill that cop?" Sarah asked, but quickly decided to leave the question unanswered. "Never mind, I don't wanna know." Sarah thought back to the last terminator that had helped her and John. Remembering how compliant it had been, she spoke up. "We need rules. Aren't you supposed to take orders or something like that?"

"I do. From John."

"From John…" She repeated. The idea of her fifteen year old son having the power to order a machine with a pretty girl appearance made her nauseas. She quickly buried the thought. "So, if I told John to forbid you-"

"Not this John." She cut in.

"Not this John…Aren't they the same?"

Looking over at her, Cameron replied. "No. But they're close."

'_Just what the hell does that mean?'_ Sarah pondered.

XxXxXxXxX

Night had finally set in as John walked up to the house belonging to Charley Dixon. His shirt and pants were still a little damp with sweat. His hair, while dry had a sickening gleam to it due to all the dirt in the truck bed and oil his body secreted. He had waited under the tarp for nearly twenty-five minutes before the driver finally arrived.

He was parched, filthy, and in a foul mood. He had twenty-five minutes where all he could do was think. Seeing a terminator at the mall had brought forth many questions. The biggest one being why there was terminator roving the streets of L.A. and if there were more. The machine didn't seem to be actively seeking him. How could it? It wouldn't…couldn't have possibly known he'd be at the mall. That _had_ to be a chance encounter.

As he pondered over this a theory presented itself. If future-John could send back troops to aid him and provide him with supplies, then why couldn't SKYNET send back terminators with missions that didn't involve hunting him? The connection he made between the resistance and SKYNET brought forth more questions. Did Cameron know about this? Did his mother know? He knew they were hiding something, but why would they keep such important information hidden?

In the end, all he had were questions with no answers. So he changed his focus from the whys and hows and instead turned it towards the what. Namely, what was he going to do about it? The best solution ended with an encounter he was hoping to put off, but it couldn't be helped. If there were more terminators out there he would need some form of protection. And with no money or guns at his disposal and no papers to go about getting them that meant one thing. And his best bet was here.

So here he was, picking the lock to Charlie's house. He hoped to get in, get out and leave without running into one of the best father figures he ever had. He felt it would make things simpler. Entering the house and closing the door, John began his search. The first place he checked was the master bedroom, starting with all the cliché locations. Under the bed, dressers, closet. But nothing showed up. He moved on to the next room. Then the next one and the next one. But each ended in failure.

Coming down the stairs he moved towards the kitchen. As he passed a table stand in the hallway a couple of framed pictures caught his eye. Stopping to look at them, he grabbed one of the frames and brought it closer. The picture showed Charley sitting down with a blonde haired woman. The two were smiling and seemed to be really happy. Setting the picture back down, he moved over to a stack of envelopes sitting nearby and looked at the names.

_To Mr. and Mrs. Dixon_.

Charley was married now. John was torn. Part of him was really happy. Charley had been able to get on with his life. He fell in love and got married. He had moved on. But another part, a small part was both angry and jealous. John couldn't help but wish it was his mother and himself sitting with Charley wearing large smiles.

The sound of the front door suddenly opening and closing caused him to jump in surprise. Looking down the hall he saw him. The man he loved like a father. One of the few people he both trusted and respected. Charley stared back at him in shock and surprise.

"John?" He asked tensely. He couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen John in over eight years and yet there he was looking no different than the last time he saw him. "Johnny? Is that really you?"

"Hi Charley." He greeted after swallowing the lump in his throat.

"What happened?" Charley questioned, carefully moving towards him. He didn't want to make John nervous and run away.

"You got married?"

John knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Yeah, I did." He answered quietly. John thought he heard a bit of shame and regret in his voice, but said nothing. "…She's a physician at the hospital I work for."

Not knowing what to say, the two fell into an awkward silence. Feeling it was safe, Charley once again asked what had happened eight years ago.

John sadly shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know. Besides…you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

Charley was at a loss for words. What secrets could John possibly have that could be that bad? He tried to find the words to ask, but all that came out was, "Then why are you here?"

"You should know the answer to that." John answered sadly with his eyes looking at the floor. When he raised his head to look at Charley, the paramedic took a step back unconsciously. Those green eyes that looked ready to release a flood of tears were gone. Now they burned like emeralds in a bonfire. "I asked you to hang on to something for me."

John watched as Charley's eyes lit up in realization. "I said I'd be back."

(End of Chapter 3)

Sorry for the long wait between updates. I know it's been three months (almost 4) since my last update. I have no excuse and I'm not going to waste time thinking of one. For those who haven't read my profile, I have started working on Chapter 4. Now aside from some of the more obvious changes, those of you who pay attention to detail probably noticed a change in the amount of time that has gone by. This will happen a lot since I feel that TSCC had the characters adjust and get settled in _way_ too quickly. That about covers it.

By the way the title is in Danish and reads "My Own Agenda". Sorry again for the wait and I hope you enjoyed chapter 3.

I forgot to write this, but John's 36b comment is paying homage to RubyFresh's story "36b and Body Heat". If you like Jameron I suggest you read it.


	4. The Fallacies of Man and Machine

(Disclaimer: All Chapters of this story are the product of my own creation using the characters from the T.V. show Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. I am making no money off it and write solely for my own entertainment)

Special thanks to Fortex for betaing the chapter as well as helping me with concepts and ideas for the story.

**Chapter 4: The Fallacies of Man and Machine**

The lights were on. That was a bad sign. When he left the house earlier this afternoon the lights had been turned off. That could only mean one thing, his mother and Cameron were back. John felt his shoulders slump. He knew there was a good possibility they would arrive at the house before him, but he still hoped to beat them there.

"Oh well, at least today wasn't a complete loss." He said to himself. The familiar weight of his gun tucked away in the waistband of his pants attested to that. John put his hands in his jacket pockets and walked towards the house. No use running now.

As his right hand entered the fabric it collided with a box that was heavy for its small size. It was a box of bullets, .44 magnum to be precise. The box of rounds had been an unexpected but pleasant surprise. When he sent the gun to Charlie it only had two rounds. Two rounds didn't amount to much in John's world, but it was better than none.

As his thumb brushed over the box his thoughts turned to Charlie. Instantly feelings of regret washed over him. He had wanted to get in, get out, and go home. He knew that if the paramedic saw him, it would end badly for both of them. But that hadn't been the case. Charlie had seen him and things did end badly.

XxXxXxXxX

John followed behind Charlie as he led him down into the basement. Looking around he found it to be no different than any other basement. There was a washer and dryer, poor lighting, and it was loaded with crap that didn't have a home upstairs. John frowned. His most precious possession rested amongst junk? He had hoped that Charlie would have treated it better.

'_Guess all's fair considering what we did to him.' _John reasoned as he watched Charlie shift some boxes around. What he saw next made him feel ashamed. Charlie _had_ treated his gun well. It didn't rest in a cardboard box like he thought, but a safe. A very secure and expensive safe. Charlie Dixon truly was a saint. At least in John's eyes. A click came from the safe just before its door was opened. Charlie reached inside and pulled out the .44 caliber Colt Anaconda. Treating it as if it were glass he carefully handed it to John.

Taking a firm hold of its grip he raised it to eye level and took aim. Both hands held the grip and the familiar weight of the gun brought a joy he couldn't quite explain. It had been eight years since Justice had last been held by its owner, but for John it was only five days. With experienced hands, he started fiddling with the gun. Looking for any possible wear it might have picked up over the years.

Charlie felt his eyes widen as he gazed upon a side of John he never even knew existed. His movements were quick, never taking more than a few seconds to check each piece of the gun in his hands. He watched as the boy he called his son popped open the cylinder and spun it a few time before giving a jerk of his wrist and locking it back in place.

"I took it out to the range a few times. That think packs quite a punch." Charlie said hoping to glean some information out of John.

"Mmm." He hummed in agreement as he moved the gun into the poor lighting checking the metal for oil, fingerprints, or any other possible scuff marks.

"I took the time to clean it at least once a month." Charlie said as he redoubled his efforts to get John to open up. "I had a friend of mine who works for the police look it over occasionally to keep sure it was in perfect working order."

"I appreciate it. Do you still have the two bullets I sent as well?"

"Oh yeah! Nearly forgot about that." The paramedic said as he started searching through the safe again. Standing up he handed John a box of .44 Magnum rounds. "I kept them in here so I wouldn't lose them. Go ahead and take it, you'll need them more than me."

John grabbed the box of bullets and opened it up. Inside was a box a third of the way full with .44 magnum rounds. Two of the bullets were marked with a blue strip of paint. He pulled the two rounds out of box and held them up to the light. The two rounds looked a bit old; scratched and faded.

"We have a couple of winners." He whispered.

"What's their significance?"

"I was holding onto em." He answered putting the two bullets into the gun. "Was gonna give em to the son of a bitch that reminded me just who I am."

"Who you are?" Charlie mumbled to himself. "You mean, John Connor?"

John gave a bitter smile, "That'd be me."

"So what exactly does that mean? Being reminded that you're John Connor?"

"Sorry Charlie," He answered. "That's part of the 'Things I can't tell' you bit."

"Okay…you said you _were_ going to give them to this…guy, I guess. So what happened?"

"Let's just say he got a blast from the past." John said with a cheeky grin.

Charlie watched as the young man before him finished loading the gun before putting the box of bullets in his jacket pocket. He was getting impatient, he had hoped to get some answers out of John by cooperating, but all he got was nothing. "John, look."

"…Yeah, Charlie." John said tiredly.

"I know that you're probably afraid to talk. But there is nothing to be scared of, okay?" He said trying to reason with the teen. "The FBI told me everything, about the machines, your mother's imprisonment, about the end of the world. But I know you…and I know your mother. I didn't believe a word of it. Sarah's not crazy and you're a good kid, you may have you're secrets but so does everyone. Now, please…just…give me the truth."

Sighing he said "I'm sorry, Charlie."

"You have nothing to apologize for-"

"No, I do." John cut in. "Because this is going to hurt."

Charlie gave him a confused look. It was the last thing John saw on his face before he slammed the butt of his gun into his temple. The paramedic dropped, instantly unconscious. A quick inspection showed the damage to be minimal. Charlie would wake up with a bruise and the mother of all migraines.

XxXxXxXxX

John said a quick prayer for Charlie's recovery. He had already caused enough trouble for the man. Speaking of trouble he wished his troubles ended with Charlie, but they didn't. While the weight of his gun brought a sense of security, it also reminded him why he needed it in the first place; the red headed terminator at the mall and the possibility of there being more out there. The whole talk he had with his mother and Cameron was fueling the suspicion that there were more machines from the future out ther.

He had thought it strange when he saw Cameron earlier and was told she was hit by a car. It just didn't seem feasible that a terminator was capable of being so absent-minded. However, if their attention was focused on something else…say another terminator, then the idea wasn't so farfetched. What's more, there was other evidence to support his suspicions. When he was treating his guardian's back, he noticed some abrasions that seemed out of place. At the time he hadn't given them much thought, but now he did. Part of him started wondering just how much of what they said was true.

Dead resistance fighters killed by petty criminals, misplaced injuries on his robot guardian, said robot being struck by a car because she wasn't paying attention. Either that was the greatest example of bad luck and coincidence or his mother and protector were trying to shovel the biggest load of bullshit he had ever seen.

John took a deep breath as he reached the front door. He knew what lay behind it and he knew he was going to play a large role in it. With a twist and a push the door opened and he walked in. Immediately the interrogation began.

"Where the hell were you!?"

He looked around the living room, his mother was standing in the middle and Cameron was off to the side near the kitchen. Most likely scenario had his mother pacing the room and his guardian waiting patiently on the sidelines.

"Out," He replied, making an attempt to stall the argument until later. His emotions were running high and he just wanted to get some rest. Unfortunately he only made it halfway to his room.

"God dammit, John! What did I tell you!?" Wrong choice of words.

John instantly froze in his tracks. With a quick pivot he spun around and marched right up to her. "What did you tell me? What did you tell me!? How about what _didn't _you tell me!?"

It was a bluff, he knew. There was always the possibility that nothing happened, but he wasn't willing to believe that. He took note as his mother tensed up and Cameron blinked. That was all the evidence he needed. They _had_ kept something secret and he was willing to bet he knew exactly what that secret was.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Sarah said feigning dumb. Whatever John thought he knew, she wasn't willing to confirm.

"If you wanna play dumb, fine. I'll just ask the smarter broad."

"John Connor!" Sarah cried in outrage. There was a time when hearing his full name would get him to cower, but not today. Today he high on anger and he refused to let anything stop him. Walking straight up to Cameron, he grabbed the front of her shirt before pushing her against the wall.

"Anything happen today?" He questioned through clenched teeth. He was on the edge. He was certain he knew the truth and he couldn't believe that his mother and his _protector_ would keep it hidden from him.

"A lot happened today."

'_That tears it!'_ He thought as pulled out his gun and leveled it at Cameron's head. The two women recognized the weapon immediately. John heard his mother demand to know where he got it, but he didn't care for her demands. He felt that the two of them were just stringing him along. He had enough of that! He wanted them to take him seriously and in his anger this was the only option he felt available.

Cameron looked at the gun curiously before her eyes focused on John. Psychologically he was still developing and as such he was more prone to emotional outbursts. This John lacked the control of his future-self. That didn't just make him more reckless, but dangerous. "Are you going to kill me, John?"

Are you going to kill me, John? Those words danced in his head, joined by a million other thoughts. He explicitly said she should tell him if anything popped up but she hadn't. She kept the truth hidden…no, that wasn't right. She didn't lie to hide it but she neglected to say anything about it. A lie of omission.

He wanted to pull the trigger. He craved it. To teach her, no, _it_ a lesson. But what would that solve? Nothing really. He'd just waste a bullet in an attempt to hurt something that couldn't feel pain. So what should he do? What could he do? He was unsure as to what to do or say. Finally, he asked in a hoarse voice. "Why?"

He knew he was probably opening Pandora's Box and wouldn't like what lay inside, but he needed to know. Cameron tilted her head not understanding what he was asking. "Why didn't you tell me there were other terminators out there?"

"Sarah Connor ordered that we keep it secret for your safety. Having only been with you for six days, I felt it would be the best choice to defer to her."

John didn't know how to respond to that. Cameron had acted in his best interests. Or at least, what she deemed was in his best interests. Could he really condemn her for that? Yes her actions left him vulnerable and the road to Hell was paved with good intentions. But her actions were logical and for a machine that is what counted. The only thing she was truly guilty of was following his mother. That meant his mother was the one responsible for hiding this from him. For potentially putting his life at risk. What an astounding show of faith she had for the future leader of mankind.

Lowering the gun, he said. "…I see…"

He left the room with his eyes downcast. He was lied to by his mother, nearly killed, assaulted someone precious to him, threw a tantrum like some spoiled three-year-old, and threatened his protector for doing what she felt would keep him safe.

'_What a wonderful future I have in store.'_ He thought bitterly as he climbed the stairs.

XxXxXxXxX

Sarah knocked on her son's door before entering. It had been an hour since the fight. She had waited to give her and John time to cool off. The only problem was she didn't know if he was ready to talk. Given how he left the living room she ventured it to be safe.

"…Hey." She said quietly as she entered the room and shut the door. John was resting on his bed with his head against the pillow and facing away from the door.

"If you're here for the gun, it's on the dresser. If you're here to yell at or lecture me, go ahead." John said not bothering to look at her. He lost the will to fight in the living room.

"I'm not here for the…for, Justice." She said, purposely using the name her son gave it as a sign of sincerity. She hadn't liked him calling it that and felt ridiculous even referring to it by name, but there had been enough family drama for one night. "I am curious where you got it, but we'll save that for another time."

"…The lecture then."

"Heh, wrong again. Truth it I came to apologize." She said with a dry laugh.

John sat up and turned to face her, confusion etched into his face. "Why? I ignored you and went outside."

"True and judging by the fact that you know there are other machines out there you nearly paid the price for it too." Hearing his mother's harsh tone caused him to involuntarily flinch. His earlier bravado having left him. Sighing she continued. "But I have accept my share of the blame as well."

John's confusion grew.

"I misjudged you. I thought if you knew there were other terminators out there you would seek them out."

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" He asked, anger seeping into his voice.

Sarah quickly cut him off. "John after what happened…with you and that other terminator…Cromartie. I don't know what to think. I've never seen you act like that before and to be honest…it scares me."

John calmed down. "I wouldn't go looking for a fight, mom. You trained me better than that. I wouldn't have had a weapon or any backup. I may be reckless, but I'm not an idiot."

"Yes, I can see that now," She consented. "That's why I'm sorry. Had I told you about there being other machines, you would have most likely stayed here."

Looking away with a bitter smile, he said. "Most likely…there wouldn't have been a most likely. I would have stayed here."

Sarah gave her son a soft smile. "Glad to hear it. Now get up, we need to go."

"Huh? Go where?"

"Back to the Resistance hideout. Robo-nanny says there should be some supplies stashed away somewhere."

"And you want me to come along?" He asked as he followed her towards the door.

Sarah stopped and went to the dresser. Picking up the gun she handed it to him and said with a smile. "You think I'm really going to rely on a machine for back up?"

Taking the gun he sarcastically replied. "I'm surprised you trust me with a weapon at all."

Sarah tried to hide the hurt she felt at her son's words. Whether it was on purpose or not, John was giving her the same lack of faith she had given him.

XxXxXxXxX

John followed closely behind Cameron, his mother farther ahead. They were climbing the fire escape to the top floor of the apartment building where the Resistance hideout was.

"So what exactly are we looking for again?" He asked.

"Money, guns, anything they would have kept hidden." Cameron answered.

"What makes you think the cops didn't find it?" After all the commotion from earlier, someone would have noticed three dead guys on the floor.

"It would have been hidden. In a place that wouldn't draw attention to anyone other than a Resistance fighter."

"What about the terminator? Wouldn't he notice?"

"Possibly…but it is unlikely. Killing the fourth member was his primary objective. All other directives would be put on hold until its completion."

As he climbed up another set of stairs he asked, "What about the terminator I encountered earlier? Am I now his primary objective?"

Cameron shook her head. "No. You would be considered a target of opportunity. But now that it knows what you look like it will seek you out upon completion of its current mission."

"Will it alert others?"

She shook her head again. "No. As you are, SKYNET only considers you a mild-to-moderate threat. That's why it only ever sent one terminator after you at a time."

"What!? Does the whole fucking planet underestimate me?" He questioned feeling put off.

"It's not that. You currently act alone or in a small group rather than command an army. For a single person to rank mild-to-moderate is a sign of just how capable the individual is."

John felt a small burst of pride at that. In a twisted sort of way it was nice to know the machine responsible for destroying the world had enough respect towards him to label him a threat even before the war.

"Okay…so the good news is I won't have to worry about Metal Carrot-top for a while. Bad news is I don't know when I should start to worry."

"It could complete its mission at any time; it would be wise to always be on guard. It won't stop hunting you until either you are dead or it is destroyed."

John nodded his head in understanding, not that Cameron would see. The machines were the most task-oriented beings that he knew. He remembered how focused the T-1000 had been with killing him. Just like Cromartie and the latest addition to the hostile machine list. But he also remembered the focus of Uncle Bob when it came to his safety. Just like…He looked up. At his latest protector from the future. As if sensing his gaze she turned back to look at him. Their eyes lingering on each other for a moment.

He was the focus of her world. Her reason for being. A sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. All she wanted was to keep him alive and less than an hour ago he nearly killed her. And for what? Because she listened to his mother? So did he for the most part. Was it because he felt he couldn't trust her? Reasonable or not her actions did put his life at risk. Maybe it was because of fear? But she hadn't really given him a reason for that either.

'_Ug…I'm becoming my mother.'_ He thought in irritation. When they had removed Uncle Bob's chip, Sarah had nearly destroyed it for the very same reasons he nearly shot Cameron; mistrust. Mistrust that was misplaced.

Being a Connor meant his fate was tied with the machines. The fact that Judgment day wasn't stopped proved that was a fate he couldn't change. But did that mean he had to see them like his mother? To treat them the way she did? John realized he needed to rethink his position. His future self reprogrammed the machines. And he obviously had some level of trust in them considering he sent _two_ back to protect him. He had to wonder if he would have sent a third terminator to protect his mother had Kyle Reese not been his father.

"Let's go." He said as he stepped up beside her.

Cameron nodded and followed him through the window. Inside John got his first glimpse at the hideout. It was most definitely not how his mother had seen it earlier. The bodies of the three Resistance fighters were gone and police tape covered various places.

"Spread out. See what you can find." Sarah ordered.

John nodded and started searching the wall opposite of his mother. He briefly noted Cameron walking off before continuing his search. As he looked around every nook and cranny he came upon a part of the wall with a small electrical wire going into it. He followed the wire with his eyes but lost track of it when it rounded the corner. He looked where the wire entered the wall and noticed a small section of it that looked freshly patched.

It was painted over to match the rest of the wall and was most likely overlooked by the cops. He wouldn't have noticed it himself had he not been closely inspecting every bit of the room for some subtle sign that would alert a possible member of the Resistance.

"Only one thing to do." He said to himself. Standing up straight he pulled his leg back and kicked the wall, hitting the patch of drywall with the steel-toe of his boot. Sarah looked over from across the room.

"Did you find something?"

"Maybe. Keep searching, I'll let you know if I do." He said as he kneeled down and pulled some more of the plaster away. Reaching into the wall he felt around and noticed something placed just above the hole. Pulling out his hand, he lay down on the floor and produced a small flashlight from his jacket pocket. Shining the light into the hole, he looked up. "Oh God…Please tell me that's not what I think it is."

He moved in closer to get a better look, only to confirm his fears. The top portion of the hole was lined with C-4. The wire he located ran into a digital readout that currently showed no signs of life.

"Uh, Cameron…could you come her a second." The terminator walked over and waited as John stood up. "Take a look inside the hole and tell me what you see."

He moved aside to let her near it. As she bent over to get a better look inside, he turned his head the other way. Now was not the time or place to be acting like a hormonal teenager. Not long after she stood up and gave him her report. "C-4 plastic explosive. It is currently unarmed, but is securely attached to the wall."

"Yeah, no shit. What's it doing there?"

"Most likely acting as a safety precaution. Should the hideout be compromised it would go off destroying any evidence linking to the Resistance or its targets."

"That isn't the only bomb rigged in this place, is it?"

"Most likely not."

"Great, we're in a friggen military boom-box. I won't bother asking if that's where they would hide supplies."

"No," Cameron answered following him away from the wall. "It would be easier for them to access than that."

John hummed in response. As they entered the next room his eyes caught site of a poster on the wall. "…Now that has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen."

Cameron looked at the picture. It showed a kitten hanging onto a small branch with the words "Hang in there baby". She tilted her head as she stared at it. "People do like small animals."

"Yeah, but you don't see the members of Platoon keeping a kitty poster around for morale, do ya?" He said as he looked at her. As he watched her gaze at the poster in curiosity a thought struck him.

Cameron was a machine. While that wasn't news to him, it did bring forth a memory. His mother had told him how dogs could detect machines. Something about the animal instinct reacting to something unnatural.

'_Animal…'_ He thought, looking at the poster in a new light. It was the sign! He realized as he approached it. The police may have seen it as out of place, but who's to say one of the victims didn't like cats? A machine would have been confused, Cameron being evidence of that. But a Resistance fighter would have seen it as a warning against machines.

Grabbing the edges of the poster he ripped it off revealing a safe built into the wall. "Mom!"

Sarah entered the room and took note of the safe. It was a large with a numerical keypad attached to the door. She absently noted the irony that her son, the future leader of mankind was the one to notice the sign left by his future soldiers. Looking over at Cameron, she ordered. "Do what you do best, girlie."

Walking straight up to the safe she grasped the handle and started to pull only to be showered in sparks and launched away from the wall.

"It's wired to the electricity!" John said stating the obvious as he rushed to Cameron's fallen form. He was joined by his mother when they heard a series of beeps go through the apartment.

"What was that?" Sarah asked.

"Oh shit, don't tell me…" John said as he rushed back to the room where he kicked a hole in the wall. Rushing to the hole he dropped to the floor and looked at the digital readout.

128

127

126

"FUCK!" He yelled before running back into the room. He quickly kneeled down and grabbed Cameron under her shoulders before putting his all into dragging her. As he inched along he kept crying out. "…Fuck…fuck…fuck…fuck!"

Sarah stared at her son with a mixture of confusion and shock as he dragged the body of a machine weighing over 250 pounds. Something bad was happening and it was fueling the adrenaline in her son. "John! What the hell is going on!?"

"We just…compromised…this place," He heaved, as he dragged Cameron's body. "We've got…roughly…two minutes…before this place…blows!"

"Shit!" Sarah cursed. "John forget her, we need to get what's in the safe!"

"Fuck the safe!" He said, pausing to catch his breath. "Whatever inside is replaceable. Cameron isn't!"

"You'll get a new protector, John! We need what's in the safe!" Sarah cried out trying to reason with her son. Time was running out. John took her words into consideration. She was probably right. He probably woul-

"No!" He said as he started dragging Cameron again. If he started seeing the machines as expendable, who's to say he wouldn't start seeing humans the same way?

"John-"

"NO!" He yelled, glaring at his mother "Now either help me or stop wasting our fucking time!"

Sarah stared at her son in shock. He just wouldn't listen to reason. He was wasting time trying to save a machine. They needed what was in the safe, but he wouldn't abandon Cameron…There was only one thing she could do.

John felt his blood run cold as his mother brushed past him. She wouldn't really leave forcing him to abandon Cameron to save his own skin would she? He quickly crushed the thought. If he had time to worry, he had time to drag Cameron. A squeaking noise behind him caused him to look over his shoulder. His mother had returned with an office chair on wheels.

"Help me set her on this thing. We can move her faster that way." She ordered. When they set the offline terminator in the chair, she said. "I'll figure out how to get robo-nanny out of here. You open the safe."

John nodded and rushed back to the locked storage box. As he made his way to it he considered what the possible code could be. He took what information he had as he tried to decipher the code. It would obviously be a number known to the Resistance. Something they couldn't forget and that could be figured out by any member not a part of the hideout. Only one thing came to mind. He set about entering the numbers with no concern over fingerprints. They would be destroyed in the explosion 0…4…2…1…1…1. April 21, 2011. Judgment day. A day no one would ever forget. With a soft click the door unlocked. Grabbing the handle he opened the safe. Inside were a number of duffle bags.

*CRASH*

John spun around. The sound had come from outside. He saw his mother near the window along with the chair they had set Cameron on. Only problem was, where was Cameron? It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. As his mother ran up to him, he exclaimed. "You threw her out the window!?"

"How else were we going to get her down stairs!?" She countered as she grabbed the duffle bags. As the last duffle bag was removed from the safe it revealed another bomb. The Resistance was certainly thorough. The two Connors took note of its read out.

73

72

"Quick we need to get out of here!" Sarah said as she pushed her son towards the fire escape.

As John stepped onto the metal walkway he started rushing down the stairs. He jumped them four at a time. When he reached the ground he saw Cameron move and begin to pull away from the car she had landed on.

'_Ten seconds left!'_ He thought as he ran to her. Grabbing her arm he started pulling her away, his mother not far behind.

"Move! It's gonna blow!" He ordered. They only made it five more feet.

*BOOM*

The explosion ripped through the top floor of the building. The sudden blast causing Sarah and John to stumble. Cameron quickly positioned herself behind John and blanketed his body to protect him from any possible debris that might fall on them. When the dust settled, he heard his mom call out. "John?"

"I'm okay."

"We should leave. Quickly," Cameron stated after letting him up.

As the three ran out of the alley and towards their car, they failed to notice a solitary figure come out from behind a dumpster where he had taken cover. He peeked out of the shadows as he followed them with his eyes. He knew them…all three of them. Two from the future and one from a picture. He debated following after them, but took a second look at the remnants of his old hideout.

There was still a terminator searching for him and he wasn't certain if it knew what he looked like. He took one last look at the three running figures before taking a hesitant step in the opposite direction. Two of the figures were Sarah and John Connor, people of legendary status in his time and he would be damned if he brought danger to their door.

XxXxXxXxX

Back at the house, John and Cameron rummaged through the duffle bags pulling out a number of handguns and various other supplies. Sarah had taken all the money they found to her room so she could count it without interruption. Cameron had just finished inspecting a Glock 19 before holding it out to John.

"Here."

"What?" He asked in confusion as he looked at the gun in her hand. "I already have a gun. Why would I need that?"

"Your current firearm has a maximum capacity of six rounds and has a long reload time averaging three to five seconds. This gun carries fifteen rounds and is quicker to reload."

"Can it hurt a terminator?" He asked, already aware of the answer.

"No."

"My gun can," He replied. "I'll take power over speed any day."

Cameron set the gun down in front of him. "You should still carry it."

John looked at the gun with mild annoyance. "Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it?"

"Yes."

He continued staring at the gun like it was an obnoxious child he was forced to watch. He really didn't want to carry the damn thing around. But with his life constantly at risk he had to agree with his protector, it was better to be safe than sorry. Picking up the weapon he moved it off to the side before resuming his search through the bags and inspecting the guns.

As the room grew silent John's mind started playing through the events at the hideout. He had nearly lost Cameron and despite being upset with her actions the thought of losing her left him feeling uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't even fathom. His mother was probably right about him getting a new metal guardian. They always did seem to pop up when he needed them most. But he had refused. He didn't want to see them as simple tools. He knew there was more to the machines than what met the eye. He knew it because he had seen it. Maybe not so much with Cameron as with Uncle Bob. If one machine could become more than metal and programming, then why couldn't others?

"…Hey, Cameron?" He called catching her attention. There was something he needed to get off his chest and after the events at the hideout he didn't want to take any chances. "About all that stuff earlier…I'm sorry…I shouldn't have done that."

Cameron didn't reply.

"It was stupid and I had no reason for acting the way I did."

Again he was met with silence. He was beginning to feel unnerved.

"So…uh…I just wanted to…you know…say I'm sorry…and thanks…uh…for watching out for me."

Cameron wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't fear death so there was nothing for him to apologize over and she was programmed to keep him alive so there was nothing to thank her for.

"Ya know…" He started. He was beginning to feel like the wall would be more sociable. "…When someone apologizes and thanks you it's generally polite to say something back."

Cameron looked over at him again, but said nothing. John waited a few seconds before sighing. "Just forget it."

Once more he resumed his search through the bag. He was fairly certain he had removed everything until his hand brushed against a felt sack. He pulled it out and rubbed it between his fingers. He could feel many small things inside. Opening the bag he poured the contents into the palm of his hand revealing a large number of tiny diamonds.

"What are those?" Cameron asked with childlike curiosity, the glittering rocks catching her attention.

John looked over at her and smiled. She was still looking at the diamonds in his hand with fascination. With a playful glint in his eye, he picked up one of the tiny gems and handed it to her. "A girl's best friend."

XxXxXxXxX

Sarah finished counting out another thousand dollars when Cameron entered her room unannounced.

"Why are diamonds a girl's best friend?" She asked.

"What?" Sarah asked, not really caring.

Cameron stepped into the room her eyes never leaving the small rock between her fingers. "Why are diamonds a girl's best friend?"

Sarah held out her hand prompting the terminator to hand her the tiny jewel. "Where'd you get that?"

"John gave it to me."

"He did, did he? Well that's sweet of him." Sarah said with a hint of displeasure. What use would a machine have for a precious stone?

"We have a whole bag of them. Do you want one? They're a girl's best friend."

"Not this girl." She replied. She lost her love for luxury long ago.

"I know what the Tin Man is." Cameron said changing the subject. Sarah looked at her with mild interest. "He needed a heart. 'The Wonderful Wizard of Ox' written by L. Frank Baum in 1900. First published in-"

"I know all about 'The Wizard of Oz'." Sarah said, cutting her off. "When John was little, I, uh-"

"You read it to him over and over again, in Spanish." Cameron finished, surprising her. "He never told you, but it was one of his favorite things that you did."

Sarah tried digesting that. He hadn't told his mother, but he had told _her_. He shared his past with a machine. He opened up to it. She could only wonder what else he had said to Cameron.

"…He used to talk about it a lot." She finished before walking off. Completely unaware of the torment she brought upon the Connor head.

XxXxXxXxX

Later that night Cameron entered her room and approached her dresser. She carefully set her diamond on it and marked its location. She didn't understand why she held onto it. It had no use other than to procure funds. Yet she didn't put it back with the rest of the diamonds. It was odd and she was confused by her actions. Never had she been given anything but insults. Not that it bothered her. The opinion of others meant nothing to her. Then again, neither did the diamond.

"Why do I keep it?" She asked herself. "Is it because it's a girl's best friend and I'm considered a girl based on my appearance? Do all girls have diamonds?"

That didn't seem likely. Sarah Connor was female and she possessed no diamonds. Feeling she had wasted enough time on the rock, she turned around and began her patrol around the house.

XxXxXxXxX

Down the hall John lay in bed dealing with his own thoughts. His legs were crossed and his hands were folded behind his head.

'_Why'd I give her the diamond?'_ He wondered as he stared at the ceiling. Was it as an apology? Nah, it couldn't be that simple. Maybe it was because he wanted to get her to act more human. She had seemed generally curious when she first saw them. He had to admit, he liked the look she had when she stared at them. It gave her the appearance of a child filled with wonder.

'_Maybe I gave it to her because there were so many.'_ He mused as he turned to lie on his side.

Cameron truly was an oddity to him. In some ways she was like Uncle Bob. But at the same time not. He had to admit there was a small bond there between him and her. So small he hadn't even noticed it when he blew up at her. But now that he contemplated his feelings towards her, he had to acknowledge that there _was_ something there.

'_Do I consider Cameron a friend?'_ He pondered as he turned to face the other side.

Truth be told, he wasn't certain. He didn't really know what friends were. They came and went as fast as he did. Perhaps that was why he possibly viewed her as a friend. She would always be there with him. He didn't have to leave her and she wouldn't become another faceless individual in his past.

John let out a long yawn. He was tired and it had been a real busy day. He got up and turned the light off before returning to bed. He wanted sleep more than answers. And having started just recently, John Connor always got what he wanted.

XxXxXxXxX

Late the next afternoon Sarah and Cameron returned to Carlos's place with the requested twenty grand. She leaned against the wall while she waited for her identification. John was back at the house cleaning the guns and stashing a few in various rooms.

Two of Carlos's men sat on the couch counting through the money. She knew it was spot on having counted it herself twice and Cameron once. Speaking of Cameron, Sarah turned her head towards the machine. She was with Chola, the Latin woman applying a liberal amount of makeup to her face. Sarah thought it made the terminator look like a gang-member's whore.

"They're exactly like you asked." Carlos said coming down the stairs with an envelope in hand. "These ain't just forgeries. This is full service. You're in the system and everything. Collect welfare with them, if you want."

"We might have to." Sarah replied, as she took the envelope and opened it up. Trust was something she wouldn't give to Carlos.

"Didn't take you long to round that up, so I'm feeling the price is right. Maybe you could've gone another Ten G's."

"Uncle Enrique would be proud." Sarah sarcastically responded.

Carlos brushed her off. "So I miss the next family barbecue."

"You don't get it, do you?" She said. "Your operation is good, I'll give you that. But you display your lack of experience like a badge of honor."

"How so?" He asked slightly miffed.

"I came to you out of necessity, but I most certainly won't return. People like me are long-term customers who rely on trust. I'd gladly pay thirty grand to someone I feel is looking out for me, but not you. So enjoy your twenty thousand, because it's all you'll get from me."

"I'm not worried 'bout that. When push comes to shove you'll come back. Then I'll get my thirty G's." He said keeping up his arrogant façade.

Sarah gave him a false smile before responding. "There are plenty of other paper makers. Yours was just the easiest to find."

Carlos frowned for a moment before he gave her a very "I know something you don't know" smile. Sarah ignored him. She said her piece and felt good about putting the young man in his place. Part of her always did enjoy taking arrogant asses down a peg or two. Feeling she wasted enough of her time she started to leave with Cameron in tow. Just as she stepped out of the room Carlos started speaking to his friends in Spanish. She stopped to listen in, as did Cameron. Her Spanish was a little rusty, but she was still able to follow a lot of what was said. And the contents of the conversation brought a feeling of dread upon her.

When Sarah and Cameron were out of sight, Carlos leaned back and smiled. Being friends with his uncle, he felt it was pretty likely she knew a fair bit of Spanish. He had purposely let some information on his uncle slip to return the favor for her remarks. She had won the battle, but Carlos felt he had won the war.

XxXxXxXxX

"Charlie?" Michelle Dixon spoke to her husband. He had been distant lately and had remained very tightlipped about the large bruise on his temple. "You ok?"

Charlie knew she was asking more about how he was feeling and not about his physical wellbeing. Usually when he sustained an injury on the job he would talk to her about it. Instead he threw himself into his latest pet-project which was currently being polished by him at the kitchen table.

"Yeah, just still dealing with the pain from this." He said pointing to the bruise.

"Want to talk tell me it?"

Charlie took a deep breath as he considered his response. He didn't want to tell her the truth, but he didn't want to lie either. "It's nothing really. I was just caught by surprise is all."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. I'll be better in a couple days. Nothing to worry about…I love you." He said. It felt out of place, but he wanted to change the subject.

"Yeah, I love you too." She replied. But he could hear it in her voice. She saw right through him. Walking towards the stairs, she gave him one last look. "Don't be up too late, alright?"

"I'll be up soon." He promised. When Michelle was out of sight he put the rag he'd been using down and pushed the items in front of him away. He was once again dealing with the torment that he felt when John and Sarah left him eight years ago. But now he had more questions without answers, the biggest one being how John didn't age over the past eight years. Did it have something to do with the big secret he and his mother kept?

More torment rose up from within as he realized he _had_ lied to Michelle. He wouldn't be better in a couple of days at all.

XxXxXxXxX

Enrique walked through his house going for his whisky cabinet. In the past two days he drank more from it than he had in the last two years. Grabbing the bottle he poured the alcohol into the crystal glass he was holding. As he set the bottle down he heard the hauntingly familiar sound of a gun being cocked. Turning around he was shocked to see Sarah Connor pointing a gun at him.

"Sarah." He started holding out his hands to show he was unarmed.

"You can either drink it or dump it. I say drink it." She said in a stern tone. Her hands never wavering. Enrique knew she was serious. He brought the glass to his lips and downed the contents. "Anything I should know?"

He shook his head in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"Anything I should know?" She repeated. "Anything you forgot to tell me? Neglected? Lied about? First and last chance."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He insisted. "Please…put the gun down and explain-"

Sarah cut him off, ignoring his request. "El finito."

"El finito, yes, what about it?" He asked quickly trying to figure out why one of his closest friends was threatening him.

"Not a day behind bars; lived a life of freedom."

"Yes."

"That's not what Carlos said."

Enrique cursed his nephew in his native tongue. "My nephew, he's a thief and a liar. I told you, noth-"

"He was speaking Spanish to his crew. He referred to you as a rata. It's slang for snitch, isn't it?"

"You must have heard him wrong."

"Rata, rat. Denunciante, informer. Certain words I know and don't forget…When I said there were few believers left I didn't realize you weren't one of them." She accused. She saw the hurt in his eyes. Sympathy tried to claw at her but she crushed it. She couldn't afford to take any chances. "Are you selling people out? Are you selling me out, Enrique!?"

"Okay, okay." He said with resignation. "I was in Lompoc, many years ago, on a federal gun charge."

"You said you never-"

"Three weeks." He said, cutting her off. "Only three weeks."

"And you made a deal? You talked?"

"No. I gave information on my cellmate. He had kidnapped a child, and put her in his trunk, and drove her from Oregon. He told me it…He told me where he dumped her." He explained. The gun in her hand started to waiver before she lowered it altogether. "And they dropped my charge, yes. But that was all. That was all I gave. And, yes, I lied to you. But where I grew up, where we grew up…a man doesn't…you know-"

*BANG*BANG*

Gunshots pierced his body cutting him off mid-sentnce. Sarah spun and raised her gun at the shooter only to see Cameron holding a smoking gun. She looked over her shoulder at his fallen body before dropping to her knees and desperately searching for a pulse.

"El hablador," Cameron began. "It's another one. It means the same thing."

"Why would you do this? Did you hear what he said? We don't know. We don't know!" Sarah said in distress.

"He was lying."

"You don't know that!"

"I do." She said causing Sarah to look at her in shock. "Before he sent me back, John looked into the histories of as many of your contacts as he could. He was able to hack into the remnants of the FBI's database among other things. The information was fractured, but he did find some news on a few of your contacts."

"And Enrique was on it?"

"Yes. He was an informant who uses his criminal contacts to help imprison dangerous criminals. He is given compensation for each arrest."

"Why didn't you say anything!?" Sarah demanded.

"John ordered that I keep the information hidden and only speak of it upon completion of my task. In this case, upon receiving what we needed and carrying out the termination of your contact Enrique."

"You're lying!" She accused. "John would never have a friend of his or mine killed!"

"You've misjudged John once before. What makes you so certain you aren't doing it now?"

Sarah stood up and rushed over to Cameron before slamming the butt of her gun across the machines right cheek. How dare she accuse her of being wrong! About her son no less! Cameron looked at her with mild shock.

"You listen and listen well!" Sarah said. "You don't know me and you don't know my son! Not John! Not my John! If you ever do this again I will tear you to pieces! I won't stop until every bolt and nut of your body is on the floor at my feet! You hear me!? Whether they can be trusted or not, I will not bring death to my friends!"

Cameron stayed standing where she was as Sarah brushed past her. She couldn't believe what the terminator had said. It couldn't be true! John would never have ordered such a thing. Still she couldn't help but hear her words repeating in her head. _You've misjudged John once before. What makes you so certain you aren't doing it now?_ She had no answer for that and as much as she hated to admit it, Cameron was right. She had been wrong about John once. She just prayed she wasn't wrong now.

XxXxXxXxX

It was the seventh day since their jump to the future and John found himself contemplating the benefits of going insane. Since they now had their new identities, the benefits were at an all time low. Still, having proof of a new life didn't mark the end of the madness. It only meant the beginning of a new form of chaos. That being the memorization of their new lives.

"So where are you from?" Cameron asked. She was sitting across from him, back straight, hands resting on the table. She was the picture perfect image of an attentive teenage girl.

John was bent over the table resting his head on his crossed arms. The picture perfect image of a completely bored out of his mind teenage boy. "Lawrence, Kansas. It's a pretty large city. About 80,000."

"Go to Kansas City often?"

"No, my deranged mother and sister like keeping me locked in the house where day in and day out I do all the chores and make friends with the mice in the attic. Each day I wait and dream that my fairy God-Mother will show up and help me go to the Royal Ball where I can leave a glass slipper in hopes that a dashing prince will come and save me." He droned.

"That's not the right answer." Cameron stated.

"Really?" John asked feigning surprise. "What did I say?"

"The entire plot of Cinderella," Came the annoyed voice of his mother from behind him. John tensed in fear. He didn't know she was in the kitchen with them. "Now say it right before I show you just how deranged I can be!"

"Okay, okay." He relented. "Let's do it again, starting from Kansas City."

Cameron nodded. "Go to Kansas City often?"

"Well, Lawrence is about twenty-five miles west of Kansas City. But being a college city, there isn't much reason to go outside it."

Cameron gave him a small smile of approval. That was one thing John had to admit that he liked about her, she didn't need to be taught how to smile like Uncle Bob had. She had learned it sometime before meeting him. Giving her plenty of time to perfect it and make it look natural. Something Uncle Bob only achieved when he held the mini-gun in his hands for the first time.

"What about your father?" Sarah asked cutting his trip down memory lane short.

"Hmm?"

"Your father," She repeated. "Did you leave him behind in Lawrence, Kansas?"

"Your father's dead." Cameron bluntly stated. "He was a police officer. He died apprehending a criminal. He's a hero."

"Yeah, I know that." John said bitterly as he stood up. "My dad's always a hero…And he's always dead."

Sarah forlornly watched her son leave the kitchen. Ever since the sacrifice of the T-800 all those years ago, the talk of fathers had become a very sore spot for him. _My dad's always a hero…And he's always dead_, those words were heartbreaking to her. Not only did it apply to the man who was his father, but the machine he looked up to as one. Man or machine, both were heroes and both were gone.

That had been one of the reasons she tried to settle down and lead a normal life. Despite all she lost, she still had some good memories. Of a life before machines and fighting for survival. John didn't. Every good memory in his life was preceded by a bad memory either equal to or worse than the good. But her efforts backfired. All she had given him another good memory that ended badly.

"Is John ok? We still need to rehearse." Cameron said breaking Sarah out of her depressing thought.

Sarah looked at her in annoyance. She had been with them for over a week and she still didn't understand emotional distress? Even the T-800 had picked up on that aspect of human behavior and it had been with them for a far shorter time. Despite this, she did feel a small sense of pleasure. A machine acting as a father to her son was far more appealing to her than what Cameron could offer him. So long as she failed to grasp the basics of human emotion, the machine would always be just that in the eyes of her son.

XxXxXxXxX

John entered his room and shut the door, making sure to lock it. He walked over to his bed and dropped face down on it burying his face in his pillow, letting the fabric absorb his tears. He hated crying. He hated it so much he refused to acknowledge it. Every time he came close to crying he would bury it deep inside hoping to forget about it. However, occasionally he would be unable to stop his tears.

He hated it for many reasons. He was a guy, he felt it showed weakness, it was annoying to him, it solved nothing, but most of all he hated it for the memories.

What's wrong with your eyes?

Why do you cry?

Those were questions Uncle Bob asked. Every time he was unable to keep his pain locked away he heard them. The memories only brought more pain until it finally brought the memory he hated most.

I know now why you cry, but it is something I can never do.

It was one of the last things the terminator had said to him before he was lowered in the molten steel. The machine had sacrificed itself in hopes of preventing Judgment day. In hopes of saving him from such a bleak world. But that sacrifice had been in vain. SKYNET was still created, the bombs still fell, and he was still the future leader of mankind.

The role he was destined for didn't bother him as much as it had in the past. He had come to accept it, but it still weighed on him. The knowledge, the power, the responsibility. But he took it. He took it and ran with it. That was his reason for being, to save mankind from the machines. He had consented to it because honestly what else was there? His entire life had been centered on who he would be in the future. Hell he even ensured his own birth for the sole purpose of leading a war that was inevitably coming.

Sometimes he dreamed of a normal life. But that's all it is…a dream. Frankly, if he were to wake up the next morning and be told Judgment day wasn't coming, that machines from the future weren't possible and that his life was never in danger, that he could grow up and live the life everyone else did; he wouldn't know what to do. The idea of a life free of his burdens just didn't exist in his mind.

If someone were to come up to him and ask, "Who is John Connor?"

His answer undoubtedly be, "A marionette of fate."

XxXxXxXxX

Outside his room Cameron stood in front of the door. She could hear the muffled sobs and could guess what was happening inside. Her hand rested gently on the door. She was unsure of what to do. She let her hand drop before quietly walking off. Future-John never cried. Many of his soldiers whispered that he had forgotten how to. Cameron felt this John needed to forget how to cry too.

(End of Chapter 4)

I know a lot of people like how John isn't some angst filled teenager in my fic and I'm sure some of you just finished the end with a WTF. Let me assure you he will not be doing much of that. This chapter is the start of his development. You all knew he was pro-active, but now you can see why. He feels all that he is good for is being General John Connor. From this point on he will start changing. His character will start losing its innocence and he will start to realize who he has to become and why it has to be him.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter 4 and ask that you please leave some reviews. Reviews are Scooby-snacks for writers after all. Oh and before I forget I have posted a poll in my profile page. Please take the time to answer it as it will help me with the direction the original scenes take. Also it is a multi-vote poll so you can choose up to 3 things from the list.


	5. Acting in Reality

(Disclaimer: All Chapters of this story are the product of my own creation using the characters from the T.V. show Terminator: Sarah Connor Chronicles. I am making no money off it and write solely for my own entertainment)

Special thanks to Fortex for betaing the chapter as well as helping me with concepts and ideas for the story

**Chapter 5: Acting in Reality**

Sarah's eyes snapped open. She had been dreaming. Though suffering from a nightmare would be more accurate. Not that that was anything new to her. Nightmares had become like her most hated stuffed animal. The one that no matter what you did with it, it always found its way back to your bed. Most of the time her dreams were of machines. Machines killing her, her son, the whole goddamn planet and this one was no different…Well it was, but not much.

She had dreamed of being surrounded by all the scientists involved with the Manhattan Project. The project responsible for developing the atomic bomb. The dream left her feeling contemplative. Had they known just what they were developing? How couldn't they? Why did they continue if they did? Would she have killed them if she had the chance? The dream answered that last question for her when she put a round in each scientist's head. Only for them to get up and reveal themselves to be machines before returning the favor.

It hadn't been all that long ago when the world was painted in black and white for her. The mysteries of life had disappeared and were replaced with simple answers. Science was bad, machines were bad, and humans were good. Life was simple for her back then, but now she looked back on those days in shame. Her actions back then resulted in the deaths of many. Ruined lives and permanently scarred many others. Including, she was sad to admit, her own son's. Had it not been for the T-800 and Miles Dyson she probably would have never reclaimed her sanity; her ability to see the shades of grey once more.

Pushing herself up from her bed she looked around to see various papers and pictures scattered around reminding her of what she had been doing the night before. She had been going through the files they had recovered from the Resistance hideout trying to make sense of them. Many of the papers and names meant nothing to her, but one did. She started shuffling through the papers on her bed trying to find it when John walked in carrying a mug of coffee.

"Good morning!" He said in an overly cheery tone getting an annoyed grunt from his mother. Sarah snatched the mug from him. "Now is that any way to treat your loveable, funny, and all around good looking son? The skies are clear and blue, the birds are chirping, and-"

"If you continue talking like that I'm going to assume you've been replaced by a machine and shoot you in the head." she said cutting him off.

"Well aren't you just a bright fucking ray of sunshine today." He dryly responded.

"And there's the son I know and love." She muttered to herself. It had been two weeks since the warehouse incident and while things were still tense at times, they had for the most part returned to normal.

John looked around the bed at the various sheets of paper blanketing it. "Find anything?"

"Newspaper clippings, surveillance photos, bank records. Pretty much everything they could find on every high-tech company in the state. It took me a while to figure some of it out, but then I found this." She said handing him a handful of papers stapled together.

John took the packet and started leafing through it. He scanned the pages briefly before returning to the first, taking note of the emblem at the top-left corner of the sheet. "Cyberdyne Systems? That company has been gone for over a decade…why would they…"

He looked at his mother in realization. Sarah nodded in confirmation. "They weren't a support crew like we thought. They were a SKYNET hunting party. Considering the relation between SKYNET and Cyberdyne, they felt it would be a good place to start. And it is."

"She's not going to be happy to see you." John commented having figured out what his mother was planning.

"She never is."

"Want me to come along?" He asked. He knew what she would say, but he also knew she'd be suspicious of him if he said nothing at all.

"No, you have your own job to do." Sarah said. John silently agreed with her. But the job he had planned wasn't the same one she was thinking of.

The sound of combat boots on hardwood drew their attention. Looking out into the hall they saw Cameron walk by wearing said boots and mismatching undergarments. John's gaze remained fixed on the hallway even after the cyborg had walked out of sight much to his mother's ire.

"What the hell are you staring at?" She demanded in annoyance.

"The greatest pair of a fake boobies I've ever seen." He responded before quickly bounding out of the room.

XxXxXxXxX

John entered the kitchen after showering to see Cameron standing by the counter applying makeup. He absently noted that she was now fully dressed.

"You're getting pretty good at that." He praised as he opened up the refrigerator intent on finding the milk.

"Thank you." She replied.

Giving up his search he closed the door and turned around to see the milk sitting by a bowl of cereal and orange juice. He gave her a mild look of annoyance as he poured the milk into the bowl. Even after two, almost three weeks of living with her, he hadn't gotten used to her setting up breakfast for him. Between his mother's pancakes and Cameron's acts of indentured servatude he was quickly finding his morning meal to be the most annoying aspect of life. Even more than the, "Hey you're the future leader of mankind!" bit.

His glass and bowl full, he put the milk away before sitting down and taking a bite from his cereal. "Still, wouldn't say much for SKYNET's terminators if they couldn't figure out how to use and apply makeup."

Sarah walked in and smacked her son on the back of the head with a roll of paper. "Don't talk with your mouth full." Looking in Cameron's direction she added. "And you, don't walk around the house in anything less than fully clothed."

"There goes my one joy of getting up at the crack of dawn." John said just loud enough for his mom to hear.

Sarah smacked him again with her roll of paper before she unraveled it and laid it on the counter. The eight-by-eleven sheet showed the blueprints for the school. She was just about to start explaining the possible exits and security when John snatched the paper up. He quickly crumpled it up and threw it across the kitchen into the trash.

Sarah glared disapprovingly at her son and was about to lay into him when he spoke. "I already know the layout like the back of my hand. Six exits, two guards in the morning, four in the afternoon. Trust me, I did my homework. Worse comes to worse, I have a life-size Barbie with karate-chop action." John quickly grabbed Cameron's wrist and started moving it up and down. "And believe it or not, she can break through concrete blocks better than Bruce Lee _and_ Chuck Norris."

Sarah did her best to hide her smile but found it hard between her son's sales-pitch tone and Cameron's look of utter confusion. Finally she relented. "Alright. You pretty much covered everything I was going to say anyway."

Getting up and grabbing his back he gave his mother a kiss before walking to the door. "Anything happens, I'm sure we can handle it."

Cameron repeated his words to Sarah who nodded in agreement. Realizing something, she quickly said. "Don't you kiss me."

The terminator gave her a quick look before walking off. As she neared the door, Sarah added. "Or anyone else."

John stood by the door holding it open for her. When she passed, a mischievous smile spread across his face and he said just before closing the door, "Feel free to kiss me all you want."

Sarah watched the door shut and debated yelling after her son, but decided against it. She would do it once he got back from school.

XxXxXxXxX

Cameron and John walked side by side conversing quietly. It would have been just what people would expect from two teens going to school. Only problem was there school being in the opposite direction.

"Computers?" John asked.

"Check." Cameron responded.

"USBs complete with simulated programs?"

"Check."

"Packed lunch?"

"Check."

"Phone call to the school?"

"I called while you showered excusing us from class."

"How'd you manage that?" He asked. Cameron gave him a blank look. "Right, dumb question." Looking forward, he interlocked is hands behind his head. "That should cover everything I can think of. That means we have roughly eight hours for me to relearn hacking."

'_Which is easier said than done.'_ He silently added. Hacking wasn't like learning to ride a bike again. It was like moving from a tricycle to a motorcycle. It had taken him years to perfect his skills and after an eight year lapse he would have to put in overtime if he ever wanted to be at that level again. The only problem was he couldn't afford to get caught. Security was a big issue and with the knowledge that there were other terminators out there he couldn't risk jeopardizing their safety. Vice versa, he also couldn't afford to not know how to hack. His computer skills were one of his defining attributes in the future. They enabled him to reprogram the terminators to use against SKYNET and possibly decrypt any messages SKYNET might broadcast.

Enter Cameron. The solution to his problems. Her own computer skills would have to be slightly below that of his future self. The simple fact that if they were better, he wouldn't have been able to reprogram her being evidence of that. With that in mind he had approached her not long after registering for school to see if she was capable of creating simulations based on the security networks of every level of law enforcement. She was capable of that and more. Since she never had to sleep she spent every night developing the simulations with varying degrees of difficulty that went to a level more complex and secure than what was currently available in the computer world.

However, he knew she couldn't just give him the programs and let him have a field day with them. He'd spend more time trying to figure out what the hell he needed to do just to enter the program than actually hacking it. He needed both a tutor and a lot of time. One he had, the other he did not. Cameron served as the perfect tutor, but between school, homework, and investigations into SKYNET he would be too busy to get any real practical experience with hacking.

So there was only one option available, skip school and learn something more useful. Sure there may have been some obscure alternative, but John didn't consider them practical. Nope, sacrificing the wonderful gift that is public education was the only possible way he would ever be able to learn the dreary task of cyber-terrorism. It was true! He really wanted to go to school so he could learn to right good, desecrate the bodies of dead things, and learn a language he already knew how to speak. And-

'_Oh who am I kidding? Public education is horseshit!'_ He thought, breaking away from his musings. Besides high school would never offer him the same James Bond feeling that hacking did.

"…John?" Cameron spoke, breaking him further away from his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Do you hate Sarah Connor?"

'_Ah the wonderful aspect that is terminator bluntness.'_ "No. What gives you that impression?"

"You're actions."

"…" John.

"…" Cameron.

"…" John.

"…" Cameron.

"…Could you be any less specific?"

"…No."

John rubbed the bridge of his nose trying to fight the incoming headache. "Right, you're a machine. Not well versed in the arts of sarcasm. So let's try this again. Can you elaborate?"

"Oh, thank you for explaining. I've noticed that many of your actions seem to undermine or disregard Sarah Connor's instructions and/or orders. You also spend a great deal of effort to say and do things she doesn't approve of."

"Well to answer the first part, we just have different views on how to get things done. It's not that I enjoy…no, wait…I don't always enjoy ignoring her ideas, it's just that our priorities are different. Take today for instance. She wants me to go to school and learn the same things as everyone else my age; I want to learn something I'll actually use in the future."

"I see."

"As to riling her up…that's just my God-given right as a teenager." John explained with an impish smile.

The two fell into another bout of silence as they continued walking, only for Cameron to break it once more. "…John?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you hate me?"

John wasn't too certain as to how he should answer that one.

XxXxXxXxX

Tarissa knelt before her husband's grave and placed a bouquet before the marker. She hadn't planned on visiting today. Normally she reserved those visits for anniversaries; both her wedding day and the date of his passing. Impromptu or not, it wouldn't stop her from bringing him flowers.

She briefly took note of a shadow looming over her shoulder. She didn't need to see who it was; it could only be one person, the woman who asked to meet with her; Sarah Connor. Sighing, she braced herself for the upcoming conversation. Standing up and turning around, she was only mildly shocked at seeing her unchanged appearance after eight years. She had long since gotten used to seeing the unexplainable around Sarah.

"Sarah." She greeted rigidly.

"Tarissa." She returned uncomfortably. Words weren't her forte.

"You look…"

"Different?"

"The same." Tarissa finished blandly.

"May I?" Sarah asked gesturing to the solitary carnation in her hand and Miles grave.

"I don't see why not. You brought it." She consented moving away from the grave. She didn't bother hiding her annoyance though. They both knew the flower was more of a peace offering than a sign of respect or remorse. Still, they went through the motions.

"How's Danny?" Sarah asked setting the flower done. "It's been ten years, right? Since Miles death?"

Tarissa held back a sigh. Danny hadn't come to visit his father's grave in many years. She couldn't say she was surprised. After Miles died he became withdrawn, trying to pretend his father never died. As he got older he grew bitter with her, for helping the woman who tried murdering Miles. Miles's death and by default Sarah Connor, tore her family apart. Tarissa wished she could condemn the woman, but she knew she couldn't do that without condemning the rest of the world as well.

Sarah Connor for better or for worse was trying to save the world. Like it or not Tarissa had long since come to realize that her family was just a casualty in a war that hadn't even started. The sacrifice of a few for the good of the many. That was why she continued aiding Sarah. She had little left to lose and was already entrenched deep.

"What do you want, Sarah?" She asked abruptly. Just because she'd help her didn't mean she had to like it. "You never die and you always want something."

Sarah tried not to dwell on her words as she walked over to the other woman and handed her a folder. "I need you to look at these photographs. I know it's been a long time, but tell me if you recognize anybody."

Tarissa took the folder and pulled out the photos. She idly wondered what she would do if she did recognize someone. She couldn't pull the trigger, but she could hand the gun over to someone who could. As she flipped to the final photo she realized she get her answer.

"No…there's no one."

Sarah seemed to see through her. "One of them might be involved with SKYNET right now. They may not even realize it."

Tarissa shook her head, sticking to her lie.

"I see." Sarah said quietly. "Sorry for troubling you…I'll leave you alone."

As the woman got up to walk away Tarissa hung her head in defeat. Sarah was willing to let her lie? If there was anything she didn't want, it was her pity. "The fourth photo. The young one. His name is Andrew Goode. Andy."

Sarah turned around and took a few steps towards her.

"He was an intern at Cyberdyne. Miles liked him." Tarissa continued. She watched as Sarah analyzed the face in the picture. "Is he going to die too?"

Her question drew Sarah's attention.

"Is that what happens now? He dies?"

"I…uh. I don't know." Sarah answered hesitantly. "I hope not."

"Well if it does, make sure it matters. Make sure it's not in vain."

"Nobody dies in vain."

They both knew that to be a lie.

XxXxXxXxX

Agent James Ellison carefully entered the burnt remains of a top floor apartment room. A few passing law enforcement warned him to watch his step as some of the floor was too damaged to sustain any substantial weight. Glancing around, he saw that almost all four walls surrounding the room had been blown away. Through the burned remains of the walls he noticed that the adjacent two buildings were vacant. Either someone had rented them out or it was just pure coincidence. Being a veteran FBI agent he went with the former.

"James Ellison." A female voice spoke catching his attention. It was Greta Simpson, a fellow FBI agent. "They told me you were coming. But I told them the last time you worked a crime scene Hoover was cross-dressing in Quantico."

Ellison ignored her comments and held up a folder he had brought along. "Ballistics."

"I can already tell you mine are bigger." She said taking the folder from him.

'_Such a charming personality. It's a wonder why you're still single.'_ He sarcastically thought.

"Same gun that killed your boys here killed one of my CIs. Enrique Salzia."

"What's the connection?"

"He supplied fake papers. Your guys had fake papers." He knew the connection wasn't strong, but it was the only thing he could find aside from the weapon. He was hoping to learn more from Simpson.

"Hope you're not selling the terrorist-cell theory because I'm not buying it."

'_Like a charm.'_ He thought. "Why not?"

"Look at the print report." She said handing him a sheet from her own folder. "Cal. ID, NCIC, CDP, Interpol. There's nothing here. These guys were drug dealers. Small-time. Definitely not worth you putting your tie on and breaking open your _Thomas Guide._"

Ellison made a show of looking around the apartment. "And I guess small-time drug dealers are making it a habit of wiring their workstations to explode. With plastic explosives no less. Oh and what about the empty apartments next door?"

"So they had a conscious? Maybe they conducted business next door? Who cares? The bottom line is these guys wanted to cover their tracks. Whacking your guy was just part of the equation. Go back to your office. Your desk misses you."

"Right. Good one." He said dryly walking off. Simpson's theory was just as poor as his connection. The only difference was the evidence worked in her favor. He knew there was more than meets the eye. He just needed to find out what.

XxXxXxXxX

The tall foreboding figure of Cromartie stalked through the halls of a Los Angeles hospital. It had taken some time to repair the physical damage from the plasma round that had struck him in the bank vault but he felt that worked in his favor. In the time it would take for him to prepare to carry out his mission, the Connors would fall into a sense of security. They would assume he was out of the picture. Too many variables worked against him during his first attempt. John Connor's skill with a high caliber weapon, the terminator protector, the TDE, and the plasma rifle.

Perhaps he had been too hasty in his attempts to assassinate John Connor. Every time he thought he knew all there was, something new would present itself. Now though, it should only be the terminator he needed to concern himself with. The TDE and weapons wouldn't have made it through time. That being said, Cromartie didn't want to delay too long. The possibility of the Connors fortifying was too great a risk. And there was still much to be done.

Turning, he stood before a door leading to the blood bank. Further down the hall he heard someone telling him to stop. Cromartie ignored him and forced his way through. He didn't make it far into the room until a man in scrubs quickly entered.

"What do you-" He was unable to finish his sentence before the terminator's fist hit his face. Cromartie's CPU took note of the man's skull caving as the body was thrown through the door and across the hall. He looked at the corpse briefly to confirm the man was dead before turning to analyze the blood in storage. He would need O positive.

Finding the correct blood type he broke open the storage unit and extracted the packets of blood. He set the tray holding the blood on a nearby counter before grabbing a transport cooler and opening the lid to ensure it was filled with ice to keep the blood cool. Seeing everything was in order he loaded the blood and exited the room.

"Stop!" A voice yelled. Cromartie turned around and caved in the skull of this new obstacle. He noted the individual as a security guard and glanced at the man's gun before turning around and walking away. A gun would be advisable when he began hunting John Connor, but for now it wasn't necessary. His hands would do.

XxXxXxXxX

It hadn't taken Sarah long to find Andy Goode. The Resistance fighters made sure of that having been watching him for some time before their untimely death. The same could be said for quite a few of the names on the list. However Sarah didn't know how they were connected to SKYNET, she couldn't say the same for Andy. He had past connections with both Cyberdyne and Miles Dyson. Still, she was having a hard time seeing how the poor cell phone salesman had any possible means of building a machine that would destroy the world. Her doubts were so strong that she found herself looking at Andy a bit _too_ blatantly turning her intentions from scoping him out to _Close Encounters of the Goode Kind_.

'_That sounded a little _too_ creepy.'_ She thought as Andy approached.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"No. Just looking…Andy." She answered making a show of looking at his nametag.

"Ok, cause you kept looking over like you needed something."

Sarah shook her head to try and enforce her point of not needing any help. If Andy got the message, he didn't show it.

"That's the phone." He said gesturing to the device in her hands. "Seriously, if I was gonna be alone on a deserted island with only a phone for a companion that would be the phone."

"Is that something you would do?" Sarah asked. If he couldn't take a hint, maybe making him look like an idiot could. Andy just laughed.

"May I?" He asked, taking the phone. "Its got a four-meg camera, texting. _True_ texting, not that SMS cartoon-bubble junk. Three-G data access, ten gigs free for music, six hours of talk time and a thirty-six hour standby on your battery."

Sarah stared at the device with a hidden look of shock and confusion. What the hell happened to cell phones in the last eight years? Better yet, why would anyone need the equivalent of a technological Swiss army knife? Taking the phone back from Andy, she asked. "What happens if I press these numbers here?"

"Excuse me?" He asked, not quite comprehending where she was going.

"These numbers right here, zero through nine. If I press seven of them will someone talk through the ear piece up here?"

Sarah always wondered where John got his sarcasm from, being completely ignorant of her own.

"Uh…yeah." Andy answered unsure.

"Okay I'll take three."

Dealing with Andy during the time it took to get the phones set up irritated Sarah. The whole purpose of her visit was for light reconnaissance and after having been engaged in conversation with her target, she found herself guilty of one of the things she constantly harped on John about; drawing attention to yourself. All she wanted to do now was put some distance between her and her target. Unfortunately the powers-that-be didn't get the memo.

As Sarah was walking away from the store the ringing of a cell phone gave her pause. She looked around before realizing the ringing was coming from within the bag she had just left the store with. Digging into it, she located the ringing phone and answered it hesitantly while entering her truck, "…Hello?"

"Hi." The cheerful voice of Andy Goode responded.

"Are you calling me?" She questioned in disbelief. What the hell was wrong with this guy?

"Uh, I was just following up to make sure everything's okay with the phone." He replied. Sarah checked her rearview mirror and saw Andy's approach.

"I just left the store." She deadpanned.

"I know." He said before hanging up, having reached her truck. He walked over to the passenger side and rested his arms on the door since the window had been rolled down.

"You wanna have dinner tonight?" He abruptly asked.

"No."

"Well you answered too quickly." The guy was either incredibly dense or incredibly persistent. "Just give me one minute…" Sarah gave him a 'no' look. "…Thirty seconds?"

"Talk fast." She said finally conceding.

"Okay, well first let me clear up the whole desert-island-and-a-cell-phone thing. It seems kind of strange if you picture it-"

"I wasn't." She said cutting him off and making him look foolish once more.

"Right, of course. Why would you?" He said unfazed by her comment. "It's an asinine sales pitch really. There's nowhere to plug it in. It would be worth less than a rock when the battery died. Couldn't even use it to open a coconut."

"This is you selling yourself?" She asked sounding unimpressed.

"Selling myself? I don't know. There's something immoral about the whole selling process."

Oh goody, the guy has a sense of humor. Maybe he's not a lost cause after all.

"And yet, that's your job."

"I'm part-time. And I'm not very good at it." He explained. "So I'm actually less immoral than the average-" Andy stopped midsentence when he realized he was rambling. "Anyway. Um…where was I?"

Sarah couldn't help but smile. Despite her initial thoughts, she couldn't help but find his innocent school-boy actions to be…cute, for a lack of better word. She couldn't even recall the last time a guy tried so hard to ask her out. Especially since Charlie had more tact and confidence.

"You're right." She said deciding to throw the guy a bone.

"Huh? Right? …About what?" He asked, startled by her sudden change of heart.

Sarah gave him a warm smile. "I answered too quickly."

Andy's face lit up and she couldn't help but smile a bit wider. Worse came to worse, at least she would learn more about Andy Goode and determine if he was a threat or not.

XxXxXxXxX

John leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms over his head. Bringing his hands down he took a moment to rub his eyes before checking the time. Realizing it was nearly one in the afternoon he pushed his chair back and stood up. He and Cameron had gone to the library to work on his hacking. Or to be more precise, he worked on hacking while Cameron read books. Occasionally he would ask for her help, but for the most part he worked by himself. Shutting the laptop down and putting it away, he walked over to the ever-so quiet terminator. They had arrived at 8:30 in the morning and after a brief run-through, she had left him alone to quietly work. In the past five hours he had only managed to make it through three of the eight simulations.

'_Computers have really become a bitch to hack.'_ He thought tiredly. Cameron closed her book and looked up at him expectantly. She said nothing as she waited for him to speak.

"I'm hungry. Let's go get something to eat."

"I don't eat."

"You don't eat, you don't sleep. How do you fool anyone?"

"I fooled you." She said, as if to defend her skills as an infiltrator.

"I fooled myself," John replied, unconsciously taking a hard tone with the terminator. Realizing how harsh his words came out, he quickly changed gears and cheerfully repeated, "Let's go eat."

XxXxXxXxX

Agent Ellison made his way up the driveway of his contact's nephew, Carlos. He knew he was putting himself at risk entering a bad neighborhood and being a government official, but if he was going to piece together the little mystery Enrique left him, he would have to get all the information he could get his hands on. So far that information was fairly limited. All the evidence he found so far only left him with more questions and no answers.

Enrique said he had a very nice bit of info for him, something worth a lot of money and by the way he phrased his message, of great personal interest. Sadly there were no details hinting at what that something might be. That was definitely like his contact. Enrique was a major criminal supplier long before he was an informant. History had taught him how to conduct business with the maximum amount of return.

But now he was dead, killed by a gun that was responsible for three seemingly unrelated deaths across town. Ellison highly doubted those men were the "product" Enrique had been hinting at. As Simpson had said, they were nobodies. They were of no interest to him. Then again, who were they and what connected them aside from being killed by the same weapon?

There was only one possible lead left to him, which brought him full-circle as to why he was in gang territory. Enrique and contacted his nephew quite a few times the day before and the day of his death. Ellison knew of Carlos, of course. Carlos provided Enrique's "product" with incriminating evidence. Because of this relationship the FBI would turn a blind-eye to Carlos's involvement. All in the name of the "Greater Good".

'_Yeah right,'_ He thought with disgust. Eight years ago when he had been chasing Sarah Connor and her son John he believed in the "Greater Good", but events surrounding that investigation gave him pause and as the years drove on he started to resent the idea of committing minor sins for a better tomorrow. Sins were sins and regardless of the reason behind them, that never changed.

When the Connors were declared deceased, that was it as far as the FBI cared. Two dangerous criminals were dead, mission accomplished. They didn't even think twice about the robot-legged shooter at the high school, the dead school teacher with the broken neck, or how a bank vault was practically vaporized. Not to mention the metal vault door that seemed to have been ripped off by the Hulk.

But none of that mattered to them. "Don't worry about the little details Ellison. Just be glad they're out of your hair". But he couldn't do that…wouldn't do that. He found it highly ironic that the subject of Sarah Connor's insanity happened to be seen by no less than ten people. So either there was some validity to her ravings or everyone in Red Valley had been high on crack. Sadly he was unable to find anything related to the shooter in Red Valley and suggesting that Sarah Connor may not have been completely nuts didn't really fly well with his superiors.

'_Focus!'_ He commanded. Sarah and John Connor were dead. Had been for eight years. He had long since given up on solving their puzzle. His attention was needed in the present, not the past.

As he neared the house he saw a Spanish girl and large tattooed man standing by the door. No doubt they were keeping an eye out. Both for him and any possible attempts at a set-up. The girl opened the door to the house and led the way inside.

The house's interior was exactly how he imagined it, mildly messing and teaming with Carlos's men. In the kitchen he saw one of the residents cleaning a handgun. Nothing illegal and he couldn't see any ammo laying around, not that he expected to. The message was clear however; you are not in control. Carlos sat in the middle of a sofa with his arms hanging off the back with four men flanking him, two on either side. Once more showing Ellison who was in charge.

Ellison took a seat in a single chair resting right in front of Carlos. He didn't once question the strange layout of the furniture. A brief glance on either side showed two more men moving to take position in his blind spot. He was now completely surrounded. The room filled with a tense silence before he spoke. "So.-"

"So." Carlos mimicked. It was time to get this conversation underway.

"Like I said on the phone, your sweet Uncle Enrique lived a colorful life. One we have not yet painted in full." Ellison started. None of this information was new to either party, but it was a necessary formality to keep up the illusion of a simple conversation.

"You grow apart. Every day's a new adventure. Who can keep up?" Was the reply he received. Carlos was making it clear this conversation was of little value or interest to him.

Ellison took a moment to consider his words before continuing. "I got an uncle who's like a father. I also got one who is like a stranger. How bout you two?"

"More like an aunt. Chatty, chatty."

The two laughed, but it was clear in their eyes that neither found the comment funny.

"All right. So you're not too close." He relented before moving to the heart of the topic. "But he did call you a number of times before his death. Two the day before and one the day of. What did you chat about?"

Carlos shrugged before answering. "Those Lakers."

"Really?" He asked with a smile, feigning interest. "What about them?"

"Kobe. He's the bomb."

"I always thought he was a ball hog." He responded dropping his smile. With Carlos refusing to be forthcoming he would have to take a gamble and try antagonizing him.

"He's all alone, man. He's got no one else who can shoot." The tone in his voice told Ellison that Carlos was detecting the change of flow in their conversation.

"Is that you, Carlos?" He questioned. "Now that your uncle's dead? You all alone."

And thus started the conversation's move into metaphors. The translation; Now that your uncle is dead are you the last criminal supplier for the family?

"Yeah." Carlos answered truthfully, yet vaguely. If the FBI agent was willing to play such a dangerous game, he'd best be reminded of the rules. "But it ain't so bad. All these boys can shoot, see?" Silence took hold of the room once more. It was almost suffocating. Carlos pushed his back of the sofa and leaned forward. "I didn't kill my uncle."

Ellison believed him. "No. And you're too smart to know nothing about who did." Standing up he reached into his coat and noticed one of the guards move to intercept. He paused a moment to calm the man down before producing a business card and handing it to him. Glancing back over at Carlos, he said. "I'll be in touch."

A lie, but when the just and unjust sit down to talk most everything they do and say to each other is.

Carlos watched as Ellison left. He had to admit his uncle's death had been unexpected, but there was no love lost. Truth be told, he had a strong dislike for the man. Having a relative that was a rat for the government was bad for business. With him out of the way, things would be much simpler and more profitable. Still, that hadn't stopped him from considering the idea of giving the Connor-bitch up to the feds. It was tempting, but he knew it would have been a bad move on his part. Not only would he have betrayed a customer, but he would end up inheriting his uncle's title as a rat. As much as he hated her smug attitude and the way she talked down to him, he couldn't help but feel her words ring true. Screwing your consumers over was bad for business.

XxXxXxXxX

It was later that afternoon when John and Cameron walked home. He hadn't gotten much further in his hacking due to the more complex simulations requiring a CYAP. When Cameron asked what a CYAP was, he answered with "Cover-Your-Ass-Program". In short, it was really nothing more than a shield meant to thwart any attempts at tracking the hacker, a counter-measure. It wouldn't be the only thing he needed to hack into the higher level sims, but it would be one of the more crucial elements.

Progress aside, he had managed to pass what Cameron called his "first test". John still snickered at that. Her idea of a "first test" was for him to hack into the school database and reset her schedule so that it mirrored his own. He did it of course. Cromartie did a great job showing just how easy it was for a terminator to waltz right in the classroom and put a bullet in your head. Besides a bodyguard was only useful if they were less than five feet from you.

However, hacking a system after only a few hours of practice was incredibly risky. Which was why they did it within the bounds of the school's wireless network. Should they have been caught it would register as happening within the school grounds and more importantly, in the school itself. They would search every computer on campus not thinking the attempt came from a laptop. This also had the benefit of putting them near the school. A definite plus should his mother consider an impromptu pickup. Which was entirely possible considering who said mother was. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on the frame of reference, she didn't come to pick them up.

'_Leaving the two of us to walk home._ _Ode to joy.'_ John sarcastically thought. He considered walking for a good portion of the day as something that should be done in moderation. Right up there with running for your life and thinking dirty thoughts whilst staring at certain parts of your robotic bodyguard as she walked in front of you. He started to let his eyes drift down, but quickly brought them back up. Moderation was good. It allowed you to appreciate the quiet times in life as well as the level of enjoyment to be found when gawking.

Cameron looked over her shoulder at him. She would do so periodically to ensure he was close by and safe. They locked eyes briefly before she looked forward once more. She had only caught him staring twice, not that it mattered. He was acting his age as far as her programming cared.

John frowned. Had Cameron been a normal girl she would have said something. Whether that would be a positive or negative response was forever in the air, but he had a feeling it would lean more towards negative. While he felt it was safe to assume that most girls don't mind an appreciative stare there was always a line between okay, enough, and too much. Reflecting on the past few days, he felt he was probably in the realm of creepy stalker. Not that any of it mattered! Cameron never reacted! And so any and all experience he would ever have with the opposite sex would continue committing suicide.

'_I'm gonna be a virgin for the rest of my life.'_ He thought dejectedly. Looking at Cameron's back, he felt his gaze harden. _'If I ever meet my future-self I'm kicking him in the balls. Provided they haven't shriveled up and died from lack of use.'_

His vow made, he continued following her past the gate, through the front yard, and into the house. Cameron walked passed his mother without saying a word, not really surprising given the fact that they had rehearsed their story during lunch.

"How was school?" Sarah asked. She didn't even bother glancing at Cameron as she passed.

"Oh it was just great." John drawled. He knew if he failed to respond without a convincing level of sarcasm his mother would be suspicious. "Nothing prepares you for a future war with machines better than Intro to World History and Writing Workshop. I tell ya with my _awesome_ high school education I might just be able to end the war by submitting a five-page essay on the negative effects of war as seen in history to SKYNET."

"John, I know you feel like you're wasting your time, but how can you expect to lead anyone without any people skills?"

"I figured I'd stick with what I know best. Stay an outcast and lie my ass off." Oh the irony of that last sentence.

Sarah was unperturbed by her son's comment. However, she knew a dead end when she saw one so she tried a different route. "Meet any pretty girls?"

'_This is working out better than I had hoped.'_ He thought before answering his mother. "I try not to. The last pretty girl I met turned out to be a pretty robot."

John saw his mother flinch slightly and knew she was going to drop the topic altogether. He was hoping to dodge her interrogations to avoid suspicion. Ironically, when he considered the ease in which he deflected all her questions he couldn't help but feel his own suspicions arise. _'She's distracted by something.'_

"So, how was your day? Any leads?" He questioned casually.

"Actually, yes." Sarah said as she reached for Andy's picture. She had set it aside so she could inform her son when he got home. Handing him the picture, she explained. "His name is Andy Goode and he was an intern at Cyberdyne. Tarissa said Miles liked him, so there is a connection there. Whether or not it's anything major is still unknown."

"Great. So when do we start?"

"_We_ aren't starting anything." Sarah stated. When she saw her son's frown she felt it best to elaborate. "I'm not cutting you out John. It's just when I went to scout him out I ended up drawing his attention. One thing led to another and…well, he asked me out."

"Asked you out? …Like on a date?"

"Yes, like a date."

"Is he mentally insecure or something?" John asked with a mischievous smile and a deadly serious voice. Sarah was about to hit her son, when Cameron walked in.

"He may have a thing for much older women." The cyborg deadpanned.

Sarah furiously glared at the terminator, but recognized her son's influence. "You're teaching her to be a sarcastic smart-ass!?"

Cameron cut John off before he could answer. "Riling you up is my God-given right as a teenager."

XxXxXxXxX

Cromartie busied himself with writing the complex formula for the skin compound SKYNET used for its infiltrators. It was one of the few things machines took with them when they made the jump to the past. In a world dominated by humanity, knowing how to create the tools to blend in was crucial.

A faint groan from behind him alerted Cromartie that the unconscious scientists, whose home he broke into was awakening. No matter, he was nearly finished with the formula. What would follow upon its completion would be a brief interrogation focusing on whether the human in question could create the compound necessary. If they couldn't they would be terminated and he would move on. A brief subroutine reminded the machine of the human saying "third time's a charm". Had he a face accompanied with emotions he might have smiled.

XxXxXxXxX

Chinese food and cheap wine. Not that that meant much to Sarah, she'd experienced worse. Hell, John would consider that a five-star meal. Though if she ever caught him drinking alcohol she'd doom the world after killing him. But that was getting off topic.

That was what her dinner with Andy consisted off. Take-out and poor quality drinks in the hopes of sustaining a somewhat romantic atmosphere. At least, she assumed that was what he was going for. If he had more nefarious deeds in mind he'd need a lot more going for him and a much harder drink. Looking at him from across the table she doubted he had it in him.

"So what's your deal, Andy? I can't imagine you majored in cell phone sales in college." She started, hoping to lead him into giving away information she was truly interested in.

"No. No. More like Funyuns and 12 packs of Jolt from the vintage soda store while my roommates and I hacked "Zelda 3" So the princess would say funny lines ripped from television reruns." He answered trying to be humorous.

"What's that language you speak, boy?" She asked playing along. All things "hacking" were part of John's world and the fact that Andy used it was a frightening aspect in and of itself.

"Computer science. Caltech…Advanced Dork."

"And what would you do with a computer degree from Caltech?" More computers, less dork.

"I don't know. I never got one." He answered wistfully.

"Really?" Sarah asked in surprise. Andy was looking less and less like Miles Dyson. How could someone like Andy possibly be capable of building SKYNET. Then again, in those brief hours she got to know Miles, she had started wondering the same with him as well.

"My father died senior year. Mom went a little off the rails and I dropped out to help."

"I'm sorry." She said sincerely. If anyone knew what it was like to lose someone close, it was her.

"Eh, it was a long time ago, but thanks anyway." He replied trying to brush it off, but she knew better. Time dulled the ache, it never went away. Wanting to change the topic, Andy added. "She's good. She married the security guard at her bank."

Sarah stood up from the table and started to wander into the next room. She was fairly certain Andy wasn't a threat, but she needed to do a little more investigating to be sure.

"Do you have family?" She heard him ask from the table.

Sarah nodded. "Distant."

That was a lie of course. Her son hardly counted as distant family. However, she had learned earlier in life how mentioning she was a single mother tended to scare men off. Few people were ever comfortable with raising someone else's child.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but as a cell phone salesman I think I can ask. Did you ever wanna be anything other than a waitress?"

Another nod, "I did."

"What was it?"

She thought back trying to recall the memory. Looking down she sadly answered, "I can't remember." Looking up she noticed a poster on the wall, the image on it rocked her to her core. "What's this, Andy?"

"Oh, isn't it great?" He asked excitedly. "That is the official promotional poster for the Kramnik-Deep Fritz match. Awesome match. Just awesome. Most people cite the '97 Kasparov-Deep Blue as the watershed man-versus-machine chess match. But, uh, Fritz would have wiped the floor with Blue just like Kramnik did with Kasparov. Besides, the other poster's impossible to find."

"What is it you do, Andy?" Sarah asked with a kind smile. That damn child-like innocence he gave off was hard to not like.

"Do you wanna see?" He questioned with mirth.

Sometimes it was annoying.

"Yes, I wanna see." She answered trying not to show her impatience.

"All right…behold." He said opening a closet door. "The Turk."

Sarah's mind went straight to red alert. The computer set-up in the closet was eerily reminiscent to the set-up Miles Dyson had at his house.

"The Turk?" She managed to get out. If Andy noticed the strain in her voice, he didn't show it.

"Well, not the original Turk. The original Turk was an automaton constructed and unveiled in 1770 by the Baron Wolfgang von Kempelen. It played chess."

"Is that what your Turk does? It plays chess?" She pressed. Nothing scaring about playing a board game, right?

"I know that sounds boring as hell. Most people think so. But maybe I should put it this way: My Turk plays chess at a level that could defeat every human player that has ever lived and probably ever will live. That's not bragging. A number of AIs can do that now. But the AI chess platform is very valuable for artificial intelligence developers."

Sarah was partially following along before she noticed something. A nearby mirror hanging on the wall was angled just enough for her to see the outside window. And outside she saw someone peeking through the glass.

Andy seemed to notice her posture change. "What?"

"I thought I saw someone outside." She said before making her way to the back door. Whoever it was it was, they were human. A machine would have just broken down the door. She stepped out into the cool night air and looked around from the front porch, but she saw no one. Whoever she saw, they were either really quick or they were hiding. As she went back inside she saw Andy on the phone. Quickly deducing that he was talking to the police, she decided it was time to go.

"I have to go, Andy." She said grabbing her things and rushing to the front door.

"No, Sarah, wait." Andy called out assuming she was frightened. He quickly wrapped things up on the phone, but it was too late. Sarah was already gone.

(End of Chapter 5)

Alright all sorts of fun in this chapter, not so much in the next given what happens. As I said last chapter, John's character will begin to change from there on. And while it may not be noticeable, I've set things up like game of Jenga so those changes can noticeably start next chapter. I tried channeling how I felt Sarah would view Andy in this chapter. I know she warms up to him, but at the start of episode 3 she seemed split between annoyance and endearing. A few minor notes, John's inability to explain how he feels about Cameron will be explained next chapter and the "right good" line is an intentional typo because of it being a narrative of his thoughts.


End file.
